THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ff 


POEMS. 


POEMS. 


BY 

MRS.   EMMA    M.   BELL,   A.M. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT   &    CO. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

EZRA    M.    BELL, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


UPON  this  sunny  morn  in  flow'ry  June, 

While  Colorado  airs  so  soft  and  clear 

Come  stealing  through  the  window  of  my  home 

And  gently  sway  the  young-boughed  trees  near  by, 

And  blossoms  that  unnumbered  near  and  far 

Their  wealth  of  beauty  lavish  on  the  plains — 

And  while  before  me  so  sublimely  rise 

The  mountain  summits  in  their  grandeur  old, 

Long  ranges  hazy  with  soft  misty  lights, 

Where  lofty  peaks  in  solemn  silence  wear 

Their  crowns  of  purity — eternal  snows, 

Where  heav'n  comes  down  to  earth ;   where  earth  meets 

heav'n ; — 

The  everlasting  mountains  that  endure 
Through  all  the  changes  of  this  changing  world 
Until  the  heav'ns  and  earth  be  found  no  more, — 
Upon  this  sunny  morn,  O  Thoughts  of  mine ! 
1  send  you  forth  out  in  the  "  wide,  wide  world," 
On  journey  all  untried.     But  He  who  said, 
"  Thy  bread  upon  the  waters  cast ;  for  thou 
Shalt  find  it  after  many  days,"  I  trust 
With  watchful  eye  will  guide  you  on  your  ways. 
And  if  with  you  there  resteth  aught  of  pow'r 
To  cause  that  souls  draw  nearer  to  their  God, 
To  Him,  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  the  Good,— 
To  Him  be  all  the  glory  evermore. 

DENVBR  CITY  COLORADO  June  12,  1871. 


(v) 


626012 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

MORNING n 

A  RAMBLE  WITH  FANCY 14 

THE  ORPHAN'S  VISION 17 

TIME,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY 23 

LITTLE  LILLIE 28 

THE  RIVER  OF  MEMORY 31 

THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER 33 

LOVE  AND  DEATH 42 

RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART 46 

FAITH,  HOPE,  AND  CHARITY 54 

LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  H.  W.  B 56 

THE  OCEAN  BURIAL 58 

THE  PARTING  OF  THE  OLD  YEAR — THE  COMING  OF  THE 

NEW  YEAR 61 

ISLE  OF  THE  FAIRIES 66 

SOUL-SCENERY 68 

(vii) 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

INDIAN  MAIDEN'S  LAMENT 71 

To  THE  FLOWERS 75 

THE  MIDNIGHT  VISITOR 77 

To  MY  SISTER  ON  HER  EIGHTEENTH  BIRTHDAY 80 

VOLURA'S  VISION 81 

An  Angel  guides  her  through  the  Solar  System — The  Milky 
Way  —  Amid  countless  Nebulae  of  resplendent  Suns  — 
Through  a  lone  and  darksome  Void — To  the  Spirit's  Home 
— To  the  Throne  of  God — She  is  wafted  away  by  a  silvery 
Cloud. 

THE  SONG- LAND 90 

LIFE'S  RIVER 92 

THE  SPECTER 97 

THE  HUMAN  SOUL. — ITS  PAST,  PRESENT,  AND  FUTURE 99 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  LIFE 108 

ALMA  MATER,  FARE  THEE  WELL 115 

CRUCE  AND  CORONA 116 

i. 

The  Shipwreck — Rescue  of  Cruce — Landing  of  the  Vessel — 
Reception  of  Cruce — In  her  Island  Home. 

II. 
Education — Death  of  the  aged  Teacher. 

III. 

Arrival  of  the  Mission  Ship — The  Stranger — The  joyful  Sur 
prise — Departure  of  Corona  for  Italy,  of  Cruce  to  her  Mis 
sion — Ocean  Life,  its  Storm  and  Sunshine — Arrival  at  their 
Destinations. 


CONTENTS.  ix 

IV. 

PACE 

Cruce  bearing  her  Cross — Corona  winning  her  Crown. 

V. 
Imprisonment  of  Cruce — Travels  of  Corona. 

VI. 

A  Glimpse  of  the  Crown  above  the  Cross — Through  the  Cross 
alone  can  the  Crown  be  won. 

VII. 

Passing  to  Heaven. 

GUARDIAN  ANGELS 182 

THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES 185 

NIGHT 191 


POEMS. 


MORNING. 

O  RADIANT  Morn  !  when  the  fountains  of  light 
Were  opened,  and  in  the  dominions  of  Night 
The  gleams  of  a  brightness  earth  never  had  known 
Had  parted  the  shadows  so  long  o'er  it  thrown, — 
The  stars,  ere  from  earth  they  had  veiled  their  sweet 

rays, 
Hymned  unto  Jehovah  an  anthem  of  praise. 

Thou  earnest  then,  robed  in  a  mantle  of  light, 
And  round  thy  brow  rested  a  coronet  bright. 
Then  earth,  as  it  met  the  bright  glance  of  thine  eye, 
Smiled  joyful.     Its  smile  was  reflected  on  high. 
The  heavens  smiled  back  to  the  earth,  and  thy  sway 
Together  they  owned,  O  bright  herald  of  day ! 

Long  ages,  O  Morn  !  in  their  silence  have  flown 
Since  first  unto  earth  thy  fair  presence  was  known  ; 
With  joy  in  thine  eye,  and  with  light  on  thy  brow, 
And  regal  robes  round  thee,  thou  greetest  us  now. 


I  MORNING. 

How  beautiful  art  thou  when  chill  winter  reigns, 
With    mantling    snows   resting   on   mountains   and 

plains, 

When  crystals  and  icicles,  lit  with  thy  beam, 
Are  bright  as  the  gems  that  in  ocean-caves  gleam ! 
How  lovely,  when  springtime's  or  summer's  sweet 

voice 

Hath  bid  all  the  earth  in  its  beauty  rejoice ! 
And  beautiful  still,  when,  with  sad,  plaintive  tone, 
The  autumn  winds  mourn  for  the  summertide  flown ; 
O'er  trees,  with  their  garlands  of  crimson  and  gold, 
Thine  eye  rests  in  sadness,  yet  loves  to  behold. 
How  bright  is  thy  coming  when  calm,  peaceful 

Night 

Glides  softly  away  from  thy  shadowy  light ! 
How  welcome  thy  coming  when  tempests  and  storms 
Have  roamed  through  the  night-hours  in   terrible 

forms  ! 
Through  raindrops  and  mists  that  may  veil  thy  clear 

eyes, 
And    shroud   thy   bright   robes   of  the   gold-tinted 

dyes, 

Thy  beaming  smile  glances,  and  lo  !  in  the  west, 
Where  cloud-mountains  rise  with  their  dark,  frowning 

crest, 

The  rainbow  bends  graceful  its  radiant  form, — 
The  beautiful  child  of  the  sunbeam  and  storm. 


MORNING.  I3 

O  Morning  !  thy  beauties  to  vision  when  given 
May  wake  in  the  spirit  deep  dreamings  of  heaven ; 
May  wake  joyous  thoughts  in  the  spirit,  where  still 
Are  soul-founts  the  Infinite  only  can  fill. 

Though  naught    for    these    longings    can   earth's 

beauty  bring, 

Nor  over  our  life-scenes  immortal  light  fling, 
We'll  cherish  these  longings,  and  love  thee  the  while, 
Love  Night's  solemn   presence  and  Morn's  sunny 

smile, 

Until  from  the  shadows  and  sunlight  of  earth 
We  pass  to  that  land  where  our  spirits  had  birth ; 
Where  souls  breathe  again  their  own  native  air, 
And  dreams  in  this  life  are  reality  there. 


A   RAMBLE    WITH    FANCY. 

ONCE  upon  a  quiet  even, 
While  the  ling' ring  hues  of  sunset 
O'er  the  earth  were  resting  lightly, 
I  sat  musing  in  the  twilight. 

Soon  I  saw  a  form  approaching, 
And  her  step  was  light  and  graceful. 
Quickly  as  I  looked  upon  her, 
Knew  I  that  her  name  was  Fancy ; 
For  so  oft  with  her  I've  wandered 
'Mong  the  grottos,  hills,  and  valleys 
Of  the  sweet  and  mystic  Song-Land, 
That  her  face  hath  grown  familiar. 

But  this  being  claims  no  kindred 
With  that  train  of  idle  fancies 
That  so  often  haunt  the  spirit 
Living  only  for  the  present, 
Never  soaring  from  the  earth-mists 
And  the  shadows  that  surround  it, 
Filled  with  high  and  noble  longings 
For  some  good  yet  unaccomplished. 

And  I  said  to  this  fair  being, 
(14) 


A   RAMBLE    WITH  FANCY. 

"Hast  thou  come  again  to  lead  me 
Out  into  the  land  of  Beauty  ? 
Many  times  with  you  I've  wandered 
'Mong  its  grottos,  hills,  and  valleys, 
Plucking  here  and  there  a  blossom. 
Far  above  the  hills  and  valleys 
Of  this  land  of  song  and  beauty, 
In  sublimity  and  grandeur, 
Rise  the  Everlasting  Mountains  ; 
And  I've  listened  to  the  echoes 
Ringing  from  their  secret  caverns, 
Till  I  long  to  roam  among  them ; 
Long  to  wake  some  grand,  deep  echo 
That  hath  never  yet  been  sounded." 

Then  said  Fancy,  "If  it  please  thee, 
We  will  gaze  upon  those  mountains 
As  we  ramble  now  together ; 
And  perchance  in  some  dim  future, 
If  thy  life  on  earth  is  lengthened, 
Thou  mayst  roam  among  their  summits." 

Onward  then  with  her  I  journeyed, 
Till  we  stood  beside  those  mountains, 
And  I  saw  Fame's  mighty  temple, 
With  its  broad  dome  and  its  arches, 
Resting  on  its  golden  pillars. 
And  I  said  to  my  companion, 
"If  to  me  it  shall  be  granted 


A   RAMBLE    WITH  FANCY. 

To  ascend  those  lofty  summits, 

Shall  I  pass  through  Fame's  broad  gateway?" 

And  she  said,  "It  is  a  question 

Future  years  alone  can  answer." 

Oft  amid  life's  cares  and  duties, 
'Mid  its  joys  and  'mid  its  sorrows, 
Hope,  that  bright,  sweet  being,  whispers, 
"In  the  dim  and  distant  future, 
If  on  earth  thoti  still  shouldst  linger, 
Thou  shalt  climb  those  mountain  summits; 
Thou  shalt  wake  some  grand,  deep  echo 
That  hath  never  yet  been  sounded." 


THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION. 
I 

'TWAS  in  a  far-off  land,  where  summer  showers 
Its  smiles  of  beaming  light  on  all  around 
Through  many  months  of  each  returning  year ; 
Where  flowers  of  brilliant  hues  and  lofty  mien 
Lift  up  their  beauteous  heads  to  catch  the  gleams 
From  tropic  skies,  and  where  the  waving  ferns 
Grow  almost  as  luxuriant  as  did 
Their  sister  tribes  of  paleozoic  time. 

In  one  fair,  peaceful  vale,  where  all  day  long 
The  birds  had  warbled  and  the  breezes  played, 
A  solemn  silence  seemed  to  reign  o'er  all. 
And  well  it  might :  the  messenger  of  Death 
Was  waiting  near,  a  human  soul  to  bear 
From  all  the  busy  scenes  of  this  fair  earth 
To  far  and  untried  spirit-realms  beyond. 

Yes,  in  that  hour  a  dying  mother  looked 
Affection's  last  look  on  an  only  child, 
A  maiden  young  and  fair,  although  her  face 
The  trace  of  anguish  and  deep  sorrow  bore, 
And  soon  she,  too,  must  know  the  lonely  griefs 
Of  orphanhood.     Three  weeks  had  scarcely  passed 
Since  in  its  narrow  resting-place  was  laid 

2*  (17) 


1 8  THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION. 

Her  father's  form,  beneath  a  foreign  soil, 
With  foreign  blossoms  o'er  his  tomb  to  wave. 
For  they  were  wanderers  in  that  sunny  land ; 
Their  own  sweet  home  lay  far  across  the  seas. 

The  last  sad  moment  came ;  the  mother  clasped 
The  maiden's  hand  within  her  own  so  cold, 
And  gazed  upon  her  with  a  look  whose  deep, 
Deep  meaning  none  might  understand  save  her, 
So  long  the  object  of  that  mother's  love. 

Her  spirit  gently  winged  its  flight  to  heaven ; 
And  when  o'er  earth  another  bright  day  dawned, 
The  maiden  stood  beside  her  mother's  grave. 
•     She  lingered  there  awhile,  then  turned  away, 
A  lonely  orphan  in  a  stranger's  land. 

Yet  were  the  faces  kind  that  on  her  gazed, 
And  kindly  voices  fell  upon  her  ear, 
And  gentle  hands  brought  gifts  of  lovely  flowers, 
And  curious  sea-shells  from  the  ocean  shore; 
And  voices,  sweet  with  richest  melody 
Of  sound,  and  in  true  soul  of  music,  sang 
In  glowing  strains  of  their  own  land  of  flowers, 
Yet  could  not  lift  the  shadows  from  her  soul. 

And  then  was  sent  a  message  o'er  the  seas 
To  friends  who  knew  her  in  her  childhood  days, 
Who  came  and  bore  her  to  her  native  land. 
And  while  her  soul  was  wrapt  in  griefs  dark  pall, 
She  oft  would  muse  upon  the  lessons  taught 


THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION.  19 

By  her  own  mother  while  on  earth  she  lived. 
Who  sought  upon  her  young  mind  to  impress 
The  truth  that  God  doth  see  and  know  all  things, 
And  that  she  might  be  blest  by  Him,  to  live, 
Avoiding  wrong  in  thought,  or  word,  or  deed. 

One  night,  when  all  her  soul  had  poured  its  tide 
Of  grief  in  solitude  through  many  hours, 
And  when  the  holy  angel,  Sleep,  had  seen, 
With  pitying  gaze,  her  tears,  and  softly  closed 
Her  weary  eyes,  and  soothed  her  to  repose, 
Upon  her  soul  a  glorious  vision  burst. 

The  clouds  and  mists  which  hovered  o'er  this  world 
By  angel  hands  were  parted ;  and  she  through  . 

A  cloudless  track  of  ether  winged  her  way. 
Around  her,  planets  in  their  orbits  rolled, 
Though  at  a  mighty  distance.     She  beheld, 
Far  off,  the  firmaments  of  many  orbs, 
Resplendent  with  their  constellations  bright, 
Illumed  by  moons,  some  of  the  circular, 
And  some  of  gibbous,  and  of  crescent  form; 
And,  at  the  same  time,  in  some  heavens  shone 
A  shape  of  each,  and  from  the  same  bright  sky ; 
And  comets,  too,  flamed  through  the  vast  expanse. 
And  sometimes  so  o'erpowering  was  the  light 
That  on  her  shone  from  burning  suns  and  stars, 
She  could  not  see  her  spirit-guides ;  but  when 
For  her  they  waved  their  hands,  the  golden  light 


20  THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION. 

In  circles  moved,  and  whither  thus  she  knew 
To  bend  her  way.     At  last  the  light  around 
More  spiritual  seemed ;  and  she  beheld, 
Through  its  transparent  rays,  bright  seraph  forms, 
And  seraph  faces  on  her  looked  and  smiled. 
And  there,  with  spirit-glances  on  her  bent, 
From  eyes  which  inspiration  deep  had  lit 
With  the  intense  effulgence  of  its  rays, 
Her  own  eyes  beamed  with  an  unearthly  light. 

And  there  was  one  whose  clear  and  joyous  gaze 
With  light  familiar  beamed.     It  was  not  long 
Until  the  child  the  mother  knew,  and  then 
They  met  as  friends  who  lived  and  loved  on  earth 
May  meet  where  earthly  woes  are  known  no  more. 
The  air  around  with  melody  was  filled ; 
And  then  the  mother  said,  "Thou  must  return 
To  earth  awhile.     Go  forth  into  the  world 
Where'er  our  Father  and  his  angels  guide; 
And  whomsoe'er  thou  meet'st,  if  thou  mayst  read 
The  deep  inworkings  of  a  noble  soul 
In  search  of  truth,  and  all  the  grand,  the  good, 
The  beautiful  in  life,  then  know  that  there 
A  brother  or  a  sister  thou  hast  found. 
Then  keep  thy  own  soul  pure,  and  from  its  shrine 
Let  sweet  affection's  holy  incense  rise. 
So  shalt  thou  win  the  love  of  human  hearts, 
And  friendships  form  for  earth-life  not  alone, 


THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION.  21 

But  which  shall  grow  mature  in  spheres  above, 
Where  love's  bright  eye  is  never  dimmed  with  tears." 

Thus  did  the  mother  to  the  maiden  speak, 
Then  in  her  arms  enfolded  her,  as  she 
Was  wont  to  do  when  the  unconscious  smile 
Of  infancy  played  on  her  lips,  and  on 
Her  brow  she  pressed  one  holy  kiss.     O  earth  ! 
Hast  thou  a  measure  for  the  wondrous  depth, 
The  tender  purity,  of  mother-love  ? 

The  vision  vanished,  and  the  orphan  woke 
Again  to  consciousness  of  earthly  things, 
But  with  the  memory  of  that  night  impressed 
Too  deeply  on  her  soul  to  be  effaced. 
And  to  her  soul's  eye  ever  from  this  time 
All  earthly  things  were  changed,  and  nature  seemed 
Illumed  with  rays  divine;  the  breezes  mild 
Brought  whisperings  of  heaven;  and  e'en  the  flowers 
That  bloomed  so  humbly  in  the  wayside  path 
Seemed  placed  there  by  some  wise  directing  hand. 
She  gazed  upon  the  mountains  towering  high, 
And  on  their  brows  she  read — SUBLIMITY. 
She  loved  the  grandeur  of  the  midnight  skies, 
The  smiling  beauty  of  the  crimson  morn. 
She  thought  upon  the  world  within — the  mind, 
With  all  its  noble,  its  God-given  powers 
Of  fancy,  reason,  thought,  more  wondrous  far 
Than  all  the  vast  material  universe, 


22  THE    ORPHAN'S    VISION. 

Though  reaching  far  out  in  infinity, — 
Then  humbly  said,  with  an  uplifted  eye, 
"I  praise  Thee,  O  thou  Ruler  over  all!" 
The  page  of  science  now  possessed  new  charms, 
And  over  volumes  stored  with  glowing  thoughts 
She  oft  would  linger  long.     New  energies 
Were  roused  within  her  soul,  and  wheresoe'er 
Through  all  the  years  of  life  on  earth  she  roamed, 
She  sought  to  bless  mankind ;  and  many  ones 
Would  praise  with  gratitude  her  bounteous  hand. 

But  not  alone  is  sorrow  found  where  want 
And  poverty  and  sickness  come,  for  earth 
Hath  many  who  have  never  known  what  'tis 
To  suffer  these  stern  ills  of  life,  yet  bowed 
Beneath  the  weight  of  other  griefs  and  cares. 
And  such  of  these  as  came  within  her  sphere, 
With  delicate  and  tender  sympathy 
She  sought  to  soothe ;  for,  oh !  so  well  she  knew, 
Should  mountains  crumble  and  the  hills  remove, 
And  though  the  planetary  orbs  should  cease 
To  roll  in  their  elliptic  paths,  one  word, 
One  look  of  kindness,  will  forever  live. 


TIME,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY. 

O  EARTH  !  when  the  dark  realms  of  chaos  and  night 
At  first  knew  the  gleams  of  that  mystical  light, 
Creation's  bright  herald  its  dawn  to  proclaim, 
When  first  by  the  power  of  Omnipotence  came 
The  worlds  in  their  grandeur  primeval  and  bright 
To  journey  through  space  on  their  pathways  of  light, 
When  first  the  Spheres  chanted  their  music  sublime, 
Then   earth,    sun,   and   stars   hailed  the  birthday  of 

Time. 

The  dim  throng  of  ages  encircles  me  now; 
The  seal  of  the  ancient  is  set  on  my  brow; 
Yet  swiftly  I  move  on  my  lone,  silent  way, 
'Mid  glories  of  night   and  the  splendors  of  day, 
As  when  the  Almighty  his  mandate  first  spoke, 
And  thus  into  being  the  universe  woke. 

Wondrous,  O  Earth !  are  the  changes  I've  wrought : 
Powers  and  Dominions  to  ruins  I've  brought; 
Grandeur  and  glory  have  sunk  'neath  my  sway; 
Beauty  I've  folded  in  robes  of  decay; 
By  the  sad  changes  that  oft  I  have  wrought, 
Woe  to  thy  children,  O  Earth !  I  have  brought. 

(23) 


24  TIME,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY. 

They  call  me  Destroyer,  these  children  of  thine ; 
But,  ah!  from  my  ruins  spring  glories  divine. 
I  only  destroy,  that  progression's  swift  car, 
Whose  coming  forever  I  hail  from  afar, 
May  move  unimpeded  upon  its  bright  way, 
Till  o'er  thee,  O  Earth !  dawn  Millennial  day, 
Till  man  to  his  God-given  dignity  rise, 
His  dwelling  on  earth,  but  his  goal  in  the  skies ; 
Till  error's  dark  reign  on  the  earth  shall  be  o'er, 
And   truth    to    her-  throne    mount    triumphant    once 
more. 

O  Earth !  o'er  my  ruins  thy  children  may  weep, 
But  still  for  me  ever  deep  rev'rence*  they  keep: 
The  shadowy  halls  of  the  dim  past  are  mine, 
And  round  them  forever  sweet  memories  twine ; 
And  gems  of  the  soul  there  forever  I  keep, 
Brought  up  from  its  fountains  so  sacred  and  deep; 
There  strains  of  soft  music  in  melody  flow; 
There  wander  the  forms  of  the  dear  Long  Ago ; 
And  tender  and  holy  the  sweet  light  that  falls 
O'er  pictures  that  hang  there  in  Memory's  halls. 

Ceaselessly  onward,  O  Earth !  is  my  way; 

Moments  I  bring  thee,  how  brief  is  their  stay ! 

From  me  thus  ever  thy  children  must  learn 

Much  which  is  lost  once  can  never  return. 

Leaving  all  vanities,  may  they  pursue 

Only  the  noble,  the  pure,  and  the  true ! 


TIME,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY.  35 

When  o'er  thee,  O  Earth,  my  last  great  day  shall 

dawn, 

Mortality's  veil  from  the  soul  be  withdrawn, 
Then  thou  shalt  be  changed,  and  my  reign  shall  be 

o'er: 
Eternity's  day  shall  be  thine  evermore. 

To  wisdom  of  Time  thou  hast  listened,  O  Earth ! 
I  boast  not  to  thee  so  illustrious  birth; 
For  sad  was  the  day,  full  of  woe  was  the  hour, 
Thy   children,    O   Earth!    knew    first    Death's    fatal 

power. 

The  hopes  of  the  spirit  how  often  I  blight, 
And  shroud  all  its  sunlight  in  sorrow's  dark  night ! 

All  nations,  O  Earth  !  my  dark  presence  have  known, 
Before  me  vain  glory  hath  faded  and  flown : 
Through  palace  of  royalty  silent  I  glide, 
And  soon  from  the  throne  of  his  glory  and  pride 
The  monarch  descends,  and  'mid  wailing  and  woe, 
All  scepterless,  crownless,  by  Death  is  laid  low. 
I  come  to  the  spot  where  so  weary  and  worn 
The  beggar  is  waiting,  dejected,  forlorn  ; 
Till  night  shall  have  passed,  and  the  morning  again 
Shall  call  him  to  wander  in  hunger  and  pain, — 
I  come,  and  his  vigils  no  more  he  doth  keep, 
His  woes  all  forgotten  in  Death's  dreamless  sleep. 


26  TIME,  DEATH,  AND  ETERNITY. 

And  ever,  O  Earth !  to  the  Christian  I've  come 
A  messenger  sent  from  the  spirit's  own  home, 
And  angels  have  wafted  the  spirit  away 
Afar  to  the  realms  of  an  unending  day. 
When  by  the  clay  temple  where  once  the  soul  dwelt 
Both  Sorrow  and  Love  in  their  silence  have  knelt, 
Then  Faith  and  her  bright  sister  Hope  have  met  there, 
Religion's  bright  daughters,  so  holy  and  fair. 
Then  Faith  spoke  to  Love  of  the  glories  of  heav'n, 
Where  ties  of  affection  can  never  be  riven, 
And  Hope  to  her  sorrowing  sister  hath  said, 
' '  O  Sorrow !  weep  not  for  the  soul  which  is  fled ; 
Love's  treasures  she'll  clasp  yet, where  on  a  bright  shore 
The  good  and  the  beautiful  dwell  evermore." 

O  Earth !  by  the  dim  solemn  portals  I  stand 
That  open  from  Time's  to  Eternity's  land; 
And  thus  shall  it  be  till  the  dawn  of  that  day 
When  Earth  and  the  heavens  shall  both  pass  away. 

Thou'st  listened,  O  Earth!  to  Time  and  to  Death: 
These  words  unto  thee  now  Eternity  saith. « 
Beginning  to  me  there  hath  never  been  known; 
I  dwelt  with  the  Infinite  Being  alone 
When  one  void,  all  vast,  without  limit,  was  space, 
The  finite  within  it  had  never  held  place. 
'Neath  empire  of  Time,  O  Earth!  thou  art  now; 
At  last  Time  himself  to  my  scepter  shall  bow; 


TIME,  DEATH,  AND   ETERNITY.  27 

Though  Death  o'er  thy  children  hath  long  held  his 

sway, 

When  elements  melt,  and  thoir  passest  away, 
From  voice  of  the  Angel  of  God  the  Most  High 
Shall  come  forth  the  edict  that  Death  too  shall  die. 
" FOREVER,"  the  word  that  abideth  with  me: 
I  saw  no  beginning,  no  end  shall  I  see. 

And  happy,  O  Earth!  shall  thy  children  e'er  be 
Who  treasures  for  heaven  confide  unto  me; 
For  never,  O  Earth !  in  the  realms  of  my  sphere 
Shall  breathe  there  a  sigh,  or  fall  there  a  tear, 
But  joy  in  deep  rapturous  tides  shall  e'er  roll 
From  presence  of  God  o'er  the  glorified  soul. 
Then  human  thought,  freed  from  the  fetters  of  Time, 
Endued  with  new  strength,  and  with  powers  sublime, 
Shall  myst'ries  unveil,  and  new  truths  shall  explore, 
The  Infinite  Being  knew  only  before. 
Should  back  unto  chaos  the  worlds  wing  their  flight, 
In  darkness  unfathomed  to  quench  all  their  light ; 
Again  in  the  measureless  regions  of  space 
Material  forms  should  hold  never  a  place, 
O'er  wreck  of  the  universe  still  would  the  soul, 
While  ages  .eternal  should  over  it  roll, 
Triumphantly  gaze  in  the  consciousness  sure 
That  long  as  Jehovah  the  soul  shall  endure. 


LITTLE    LILLIE. 

GENTLY  sunset's  golden  shadow 
With  a  glory  soft  and  mild, 

On  the  lowly  couch  was  streaming 
Of  a  little  dying  child. 

But  she  did  not  see  the  sunlight 
Gleaming  from  the  western  skies  ; 

For  the  light  had  long  since  faded 
From  her  once  bright,  beaming  eyes. 

By  the  bedside  sat  the  mother, 
Clasping  Lillie's  thin,  white  hand, 

While  in  gentle  tones  she  told  her 
Of  the  far-off  better  land. 

By  a  window  stood  the  cradle, 
Where  a  little  brother  slept ; 

And  a  fair  and  dark-eyed  sister, 
By  the  cradle  knelt  and  wept. 

"Take  me  in  your  arms,  my  mother," 
Then  the  little  maiden  said, 

"With  your  kind  hand  gently  resting 
Once  again  upon  my  head. 

(28) 


LTTTLE  LILLIE. 

"Place  it  lightly,  O  my  mother, 
'  On  my  weary,  aching  brow ; 
Oh,  I  soon  must  leave  you,  mother, 
Death  is  stealing  o'er  me  now. 

"  It  hath  seemed  a  long  night,  mother, 

Since  I  saw  the  light  of  day; 
Is  there  any  night,  dear  mother, 

In  that  land  so  far  away  ? 

"  Tell  me,  O  my  gentle  mother  ! 

Tell  me,  in  that  better  land 
Will  the  holy,  white-robed  angels 

Come  and  take  me  by  the  hand  ? 

"Oh,  my  spirit  sees  them  coming! 

And  their  brows  are  crowned  with  light, 
And  they  whisper,  oh,  so  softly ! 

That  in  heaven  there'll  be  no  night. 

"Gentle  sister,  thou  art  weeping, 
Though  I  cannot  see  thy  tears; 

Do  not  grieve  for  me,  my  sister, 
For  my  spirit  feels  no  fears. 

"Farewell,  mother,  sister,  brother; 

When  in  heaven  we  all  unite, 
I  with  spirit-eyes  shall  see  you, 

And  in  heaven  there'll  be  no  night." 
3* 


29 


LITTLE    LILLIE. 


In  the  quiet  village  churchyard 

Is  a  little  mossy  grave, 
And  the  branches  of  a  willow 

Sad  and  silent  o'er  it  wave. 

There  is  sleeping  little  Lillie, 
While  upon  her  tombstone  white 

Are  her  dying  words  engraven, — 

"And  in  heaven  there1  II  be  no  night." 


THE    RIVER    OF    MEMORY. 

THERE'S  a  deep  majestic  river 

Winding  through  the  vale  of  time, 

And  its  waves  are  ever  speaking 
With  an  utterance  sublime. 

For  within  the  dells  and  caverns 

That  beneath  its  waters  lie, 
Are  the  lost  and  buried  treasures 

Left  there  when  life's  storms  swept  by. 

Treasures  that  no  more  forever 
May  our  yearning  spirits  grasp; 

For  the  past  hath  borne  them  from  us, 
Borne  them  from  our  earthly  clasp. 

Still,  we  ever  must  remember 

All  the  bright  things  that  are  fled, 

Which  affection,  could  it  clasp  them, 
Glorious  beams  would  round  them  shed. 


THE  RIVER    OF  MEMORY. 

So  we  stand  beside  this  river, 
On  its  dim  and  shadowy  shore, 

Where  the  flickering  lights  of  memory 
Flash  and  gleam  for  evermore. 


THE    CHIEFTAIN'S    DAUGHTER. 

FAR,  far  away,  within  a  forest  dim, 
There  dwelt,  in  times  long  past,  an  Indian  tribe. 
Within  those  forest  depths,  beside  a  stream 
Whose  rushing  waters  wild,  sweet  music  made, 
The  wigwam  of  the  Indian  chieftain  stood ; 
And  all  the  tribe  who  round  him  dwelt  revered 
This  chieftain  brave, — they  called  him  Thunder-Cloud. 

One  only  daughter  had  this  chieftain  brave, 
Unlike  the  other  maidens  of  her  tribe: 
They  loved  the  war-dance  and  the  hunting-song ; 
But  e'en  from  childhood  days  her  soul  had  seemed 
To  hold  communion  sweet  with  higher  things. 
No  books  had  Sunny-Eye;  but  nature  spread 
Its  glorious  pages  to  her  opening  soul: 
Birds,  flowers,  rocks,  streams,  and  distant  mountains 

filled 

Her  soul  sometimes  with  rapture  and  delight, 
Sometimes  with  reverence  deep  or  quiet  joy. 

But  all  the  glories  that  the  day  revealed 
Within  her  soul  wrought  no  such  mighty  spell 
As  that  which  rested  there  when  oft  she  stood, 
In  night's  calm  hour,  and  with  her  parents  gazed 

(33) 


34  THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

Upon  the  starry  heavens  that  o'er  them  hung. 

Then  would  the  chieftain  speak,  in  tones  subdued, 

Of  one  Great  Spirit  ruling  ev'rywhere. 

But  of  that  Being  whom  he  little  knew, 

So  few  and  strange  the  solemn  words  he  spoke, 

That  in  the  soul  of  Sunny-Eye  they  woke 

Strange  wonder  and  bewild'ring  awe  alone. 

The  mother  led  her  oft,  at  sunset's  hour, 
Where  side  by  side  three  little  graves  were  seen. 
Then  to  her  child  she  spoke,  in  deep,  sad  tones, 
Of  other  days,  when  little  children  played 
Around  their  wigwam,  with  their  voices  gay, 
Their  laughter  merry,  as  was  Sunny-Eye's, 
And  how  Death-spirit  took  them  all  away, 
And  how  they  dwelt  in  far-off  blessed  isles, 
Where  happy  souls  shall  live  for  evermore. 

"Shall  I  forever  live?"  the  maiden  cried  ; 
"And  shall  I  reach  at  last  those  blessed  isles? 
Then  tell  me  more  of  that  which  still  shall  live 
When  we  upon  this  earth  are  seen  no  more." 
Then  sadly  on  her  child  the  mother  gazed, 
And  said,  "O  Sunny-Eye,  I  know  no  more!" 

But  in  the  soul  of  Sunny-Eye  each  day 
This  longing  after  truth  grew  so  intense 
That  it  al  sorbed  almost  her  every  thought. 

The  parents  watched  with  silent  grief  and  fear 
The  strange  unrest  that  seemed  to  haunt  her  soul ; 


THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 


35 


And  after  days  and  nights  of  thought  and  care, 
Thus  to  his  child  at  last  the  chieftain  said: 

"Beyond  the  broad,  green  plains  that  round  us  spread, 
Dark  streams,  and  forests  dim,  the  white  man  dwells, 
And  I  have  heard  that  with  the  pale-faced  race 
Is  much  of  knowledge  and  of  wisdom  found  : 
If  they  can  tell  thee  aught  to  bring  thee  peace, 
And  thou  canst  brave  the  dangers  of  the  way, 
Then  soon  we  to  the  white  man's  land  will  go." 

So  strange  at  first  to  Sunny-Eye  it  seemed 
To  leave,  e'en  for  a  time,  her  forest  home, 
But  most  her  mother,  she  could  scarce  reply. 
The  voice  within  her  soul  that  asked  for  light, 
O'er  thoughts  of  grief  and  fear  at  length  prevailed; 
She  said  then  to  her  father,  "I  will  go." 

Then  soon  throughout  the  tribe  the  news  was  spread, 
And  long  that  night  the  converse  that  was  held 
Between  the  chieftain  and  the  aged  men. 

At  last  one  old  man  said,  "O  chieftain  brave, 
These  things  thou  well  dost  know:   the  way  is  long, 
The  pale-face  is  the  red  man's  enemy; 
But  if  thou  canst  in  safety  pass  the  plains, 
And  once  dost  reach  the  land  that  lies  beyond, 
Where  dwells  the  pale-faced  race  in  numbers  vast, 
Thou  needst  not  fear  but  that  thy  child  and  thou, 
With  that  same  peace  ye  come,  will  be  received. 
But  one  thing  thou  mayst  fear:  thou  knowest  well 


36  THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

Three  summers  scarce'  have  flown  since  of  our  tribe, 

Some  roaming  in  the  hunting-chase  yon  plains, 

Despoiled  the  fruitful  fields  of  some  who  dwelt 

Remote  from  others  of  their  pale-faced  race ; 

And  thou  dost  know  the  dwellers  of  the  plains 

Have  vowed  dire  vengeance  if  it  e'er  befall 

That  they  should  meet  with  any  of  our  race, 

Or,  should  they  learn  our  dwelling-place,  to  come 

Together,  with  a  strong,  united  power, 

Despoil  our  homes,  and  drive  us  from  the  land. 

Oh,  may  Great  Spirit  punishment  award 

To  those  who  spoiled  their  fields ;  but  for  their  crimes 

Be  not  the  innocent  to  sun" ring  brought. 

And  now,  before  thy  journey  thou  dost  take, 

Bring  hither  Sunny-Eye ;  and,  with  your  eyes 

To  yonder  heavens  raised,  the  promise  give, 

Whatever  may  befall  you,  that  ye  ne'er 

To  white  man  will  reveal  our  dwelling-place." 

The  promise  giv'n,  all  needful  things  prepared, 
They  started  on  their  long  and  dang'rous  way. 

And,  oh  !  what  joy  at  last  their  souls  did  feel, 
When,  after  days  of  toil  and  weariness, 
They  saw  the  white  man's  fields  with  plenty  crowned, 
And  num'rous  spires  of  distant  cities  gleam! 
A  kindly  welcome  unto  them  was  giv'n. 
The  white  man's  language  they  but  little  knew ; 
That  little  they  had  learned  from  those  who  came 


THE    CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 


37 


To  purchase  furs  from  hunters  of  their  tribe. 
The  object  of  their  coming  soon  made  known, 
Deep  interest  awoke  for  Sunny-Eye  ; 
Instruction  gladly  unto  her  was  giv'n  ; 
From  holy  lips  she  heard  the  word  divine, 
And  learned,  herself,  to  read  the  sacred  page. 
Within  her  soul  she  knew  a  Saviour's  love, 
And  life  and  soul  and  all  to  Him  were  giv'n. 

But  when  the  calm,  sweet  days  of  autumn  came, 
They  sought  again  their  own  loved  forest  home ; 
And  'mong  the  many  books  by  kind  friends  giv'n 
Was  one  to  them  more  precious  than  all  else, — 
That  one  which  lights  the  soul  to  God  and  heav'n. 
So  safe  their  coming  to  the  white  man's  home, 
But  little  feared  they  for  a  safe  return. 

The  chieftain's  thoughts  were  of  the  joys  of  home, 
And  of  the  pride  and  pleasure  he  should  feel 
When  to  her  mother  back  he  should  have  brought 
Their  Sunny-Eye,  from  troubled  thoughts  now  freed. 
The  thoughts  of  Sunny-Eye  were  too  of  home, 
And  loving  welcome  waiting  her  return. 
But  most  she  thought  of  teaching  to  her  friends 
The  sacred  truths  which  she  herself  had  learned. 

A  few  days  passed,  and  they  had  reached  the  plains, 
And  two  more  days  might  bring  them  to  their  home. 

Once,  near  the  close  of  day,  strange  sounds  they 
heard ; 

•    4 


38  THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

They  stopped  and  listened,  and  the  chieftain's  brow 

Grew  dark  with  fear,  as  to  his  child  he  said, — 

" It  is  the  pale-faced  dwellers  of  the  plain." 

E'en  while  the  chieftain  spoke,  they  nearer  came. 

Flight  could  norbe;  one  shout  triumphant  told 

That  they  were  wholly  in  their  cruel  pow'r. 

In  vain  the  cries  and  prayers  of  Sunny-Eye ; 

In  vain  defensive  words  the  chieftain  spoke. 

11  For  vengeance  seek  we  !    Now  shalt  thou  be  bound, 

And  on  the  morrow  thou  shalt  suffer  death  ! 

And  this  thy  daughter  shall  a  captive  be." 

These  words  aroused  still  more  the  maiden's  soul. 

"  I  am  a  chieftain's  daughter  !"  then  she  cried, 

A  proud  light  flashing  in  her  earnest  eye. 

"  I  who  have  roamed,  through  many  girlhood  days, 

As  free  as  winds  that  o'er  my  pathway  played 

Will  willingly  with  my  brave  father  die ; 

But,  oh,  a  captive  I  can  never  be  !" 

The  white  men  heard  in  silence;  then  they  said, — 
"  One  only  thing  can  save  thee :  wilt  thou  tell 
Where  dwells  the  tribe  o'er  which  thy  father  ruled  ? 
Speak,  then,  and  thou'lt  be  free,  thy  father  free; 
If  thou  a  mother,  sister,  brother  hast 
Remaining  with  the  people  of  thy  tribe, 
They  safe  shall  be.     Say  quickly,  wilt  thou  tell?" 
Her  dark  eye  flashed  with  an  indignant  light, 
Her  proud  look  changed  to  one  of  noble  scorn. 


THE    CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 


39 


"  Think  ye,"  she  cried,  "my  tribe  I  will  betray? 

There's  naught  could  tempt  me  to  so  base  a  deed  ! 

Besides,  a  solemn  promise  I  should  break. 

The  love  of  friends  may  stronger  be  than  love 

Of  life  itself,  but  in  the  noble  soul 

Dwells  something  stronger  still  than  either  these. 

It  is  the  love  of  right,  that  biddeth  it 

Stand  firm  to  truth,  and  leave  all  else  to  God  !" 

She  ceased,  and  for  awhile  her  foes  spoke  not. 

Consulting  long,  at  last  one  said  to  her : 
"  Chieftain's  daughter  of  lofty  soul, 
Back  to  thy  distant  home  again  ! 
Thou  art  free,  though  thy  father  die  ! 
"Then  with  him  I  will  die  !"  cried  Sunny-Eye. 

But,  as  she  spoke,  she  met  her  father's  gaze  ; 

A  noble  pride  and  sorrow  mingled  there. 

In  tones  of  grief,  yet  firmness,  then  he  said  : 
"  Far  off,  Sunny-Eye,  in  the  forest  dim, 
Thy  mother  will  stand  by  the  wigwam  door, 
Will  list  for  the  sound  of  the  chieftain's  tread, 
The  clear,  merry  laugh  of  her  Sunny-Eye. 
The  tread  of  the  chieftain  she'll  hear  no  more  ! 
Wilt  leave  her  alone  in  the  forest  dim, 
With  none  there  to  lighten  her  daily  cares, 
Or  weep  with  her  more  by  the  little  graves? 
If  not  for  thine  own,  for  thy  mother's  sake, 
O  Sunny-Eye,  hasten,  oh,  hasten  home !" 


40  THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

Then  once  again  she  met  her  father's  gaze ; 
And  in  that  gaze  she  read  almost  command, 
And,  strengthening  her  soul,  said,  "  I  will  go  !" 
And  in  the  final  parting,  though  it  seemed 
As  if  the  very  soul  itself  were  rent, 
An  unseen  Power  to  strengthen  hovered  near ; 
And  Sunny-Eye  departed  on  her  way. 
The  night  came  on ;  but  with  the  darkness  round 
She  felt  the  presence  of  protecting  Power ; 
And  on  the  morrow,  at  the  sunset  time, 
She  stood  again  within  the  wigwam  door. 
And  when  all  to  her  mother  had  been  told, 
And  when  the  first  deep  burst  of  grief  was  o'er, 
When  calmness  to  her  soul  once  more  returned, 
The  daily  duties  were  resumed  again. 
And  now  with  Sunny-Eye  commenced  the  work, 
The  holy  work  to  which  her  life  was  given, 
Of  teaching  truth  to  those  who  round  her  dwelt. 

One  day,  within  their  sad  and  lonely  home 
Sat  child  and  mother,  filled  with  silent  grief. 
The  wigwam  door  was  open,  and  the  light 
Of  sunset's  ling'ring  beams  streamed  brightly  in. 
'Twas  darkened  by  a  shadow  all  at  once ; 
And  child  and  mother,  looking  up,  beheld 
The  chieftain  in  his  forest  home  once  more ; 
And  grief  gave  place  to  sweet  surprise  and  joy. 
And  long  the  story  by  the  chieftain  told, 


THE   CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER.  4I 

How  day  to  day  the  pale-faced  foes  delayed 

Their  threat's  fulfillment, — why,  he  could  not  tell, — 

And  finally,  relenting,  bade  him  go. 

Long  years  have  passed.     Beside  that  forest  stream 

The  wigwam  of  the  chieftain  stands  no  more. 

The  noble  souls  who  in  that  wigwam  dwelt 

Now  roam  the  islands  of  immortal  bliss, 

Where  truth's  own  fountains  flow,  and  where  the  light 

Of  God's  own  presence  makes  eternal  day. 


LOVE   AND    DEATH. 

'MoNG  far-away  valleys  and  grand  mountains  old, 
That  tower  sublimely  with  summits  so  bold, 
There  dwelt,  in  the  times  of  the  long,  long  ago, 
Bright  beings  who  knew  not  of  grief  nor  of  woe. 
No  tones  of  unkindness  among  them  were  heard ; 
Their  souls  ne'er  by  strife  nor  by  discord  were  stirred ; 
Their  brows  wore  no  frowns  like  the  clouds  on  the 

skies, 

The  lightnings  of  anger  ne'er  flashed  from  their  eyes. 
Oh,  fair  were  those  mountains  and  beautiful  vales, 
And  pure  was  the  breath  of  the  free  mountain  gales ! 
The  forests  gleamed  bright  in  the  sun's  laughing  beams, 
The  moonlight  shone  tenderly  over  their  streams, 
And  stars  with  a  radiance  gentle  and  bright 
O'er  mountains  and  vales  beamed  with  tremulous  light. 
Those  beings  passed  only  from  earth  one  by  one, 
Their  mission  fulfilled  and  their  life-work  all  done. 
So  joyful  their  exit,  their  friends  could  not  weep, 
And  called  it  not  death,  but  the  beautiful  sleep  ; 
While  still  the  strong  links  of  their  sweet  deathless  love 
To  pure  ones  on  earth  bound  the  pure  ones  above. 
(42) 


LOVE  AND  DEATH. 


43 


And  o'er  those  bright  mountains  and,  beautiful  vales 

Sweet  tones,  floating  lightly  on  morning's  soft  gales, 

Said,  "Peace  to  the  mountains,  and  peace  to  the  vales ;" 

From  voice  of  a  being  sent  down  from  above ; 

The  name  of  this  heavenly  being  was  Love. 

Once,  Death  in  his  terrible  majesty  came; 

No  one  knew  his  presence,  no  one  knew  his  name, 

Till  over  those  mountains  the  shadows  fell  fast, 

And  wild  tones  that  floated  on  midnight's  fierce  blast 

Cried,  "  Woe  to  the  mountains,  and  woe  to  the  vales  ! 

Howl  wildly,  ye  night  winds,  upon  the  dark  mountains; 

Sweep,  tempests  of  midnight,  through  green  vales 

below ; 
Ere  sunbeams  of  morn  gild  the  clear,  gushing  fountains, 

Each  heart  shall  have  felt  the  dread  presence  of 

.  woe. 

Fly  swiftly,  O  Love !  who  already  too  long 
Hast  gladdened  these  mountains  with  beauty  and  song; 
I'll  drive  thee  away  from  these  regions  at  last, 
And  send  thee  a  wand'rer  on  midnight's  fierce  blast." 

But  Love  firmly  stood  with  a  calm,  beaming  eye : 
"Death,  I  am  the  stronger,  'tis  thou  that  must  fly," 
Was  said,  in  a  strong  voice,  whose  deep,  ringing  tones 
Were  mingling  e'en   then   with    the  wild   wails   and 

moans. 

The  dark  "King  of  Terrors"  was  speeding  his  dart, 
His  poisoned  shaft  entering  many  a  heart, 


44 


LOVE  AND  DEATH. 


And  naught  was  there  heard  on  his  ruin-strewn  way, 
Among  those  sad  mountains,  for  many  a  day 
Save  the  wailing  and  the  crying 
Of  the  stricken  and  the  dying. 

The   father   would   stand   where    the   glad    sunbeams 

smiled 

On  cold  features  white  of  his  dead  little  child, 
And  say,  in  the  deep  tones  of  anguish  and  grief, 
Thus  struggling  to  bring  to  his  spirit  relief. 
"  Waken,  O  beautiful  beams  of  the  morning! 

Oh,  waken  my  dead  from  its  strange  deep  repose ! 
Oft  have  I  listened  to  Death's  fearful  warning ; 

My  spirit  is  sinking  beneath  its  great  woes." 

The  mother,  as  Death  cast  its  dark,  fearful  blight 
O'er  faces  once  beaming  with  joy  and  delight, 
Her  hands  clasped  in  agony  wild  with  despair, 
And  said,  while  her  tones  thrilled  the  dense,  stifling 

air, 

"  Thou  merciful  God,  who  e'er  rulest  on  high, 
Oh,  look  down  on  me  with  a  pitying  eye ; 
Fling  back   these   strange   shadows    that   darken    my 

life, 

And  set  my  soul  free  from  its  wearisome  strife ; 
Or  else  let  me  pass  to  that  sunlighted  shore 
Where  tempests  of  sorrow  may  beat  nevermore." 


LOVE  AND   DEATH. 


45 


The  young  and  the  aged  were  chilled  by  the  breath, 
Or  struck  by  the  darts,  of  this  grim  monster  Death ; 
And  eyes  that  once  beamed  with  the  radiance  caught 
From  holy  fires  kindled  by  heaven-born  thought, 
Lost  all  of  their  brightness,  and  told  nevermore 
Of  visions  that  gleamed  on  the  spirit  before. 
But  Death  only  strengthened  the  bright  links  of  Love, 
To  pure  ones  on  earth  binding  pure  ones  above. 

At  last  'mong  those  mountains  and  beautiful  vales 
There  floated  those  sweet  tones-  once  more  on  the  gales, 
And  "Peace  to  the  mountains,  and  peace  to  the  vales," 
Told  Love  was  triumphant  o'er  all  woe  at  last, 
And  stronger  than  Death  on  the  midnight's  fierce  blast. 
Those  beings  long  dwelt  'mong  those  mountains  and 

vales, 

Where  floated  those  tones  on  the  soft  morning  gales, 
United  by  beautiful  links  of  a  love 
Like  that  of  the  angels  and  seraphs  above. 


RELIGION,    SCIENCE,    AND    ART. 

'TWAS  in  the  early  twilight  of  the  dawn, 

While  in  the  east  glowed  bright  the  morning  star, 
That  o'er  a  broad  and  dew-besprinkled  lawn 

There  walked  a  being  sent  from  realms  afar, 
Sent  down  from  bright  celestial  spheres  above 

To  wander  o'er  this  dark  and  ruined  world, 
And  by  the  Holy  One  whose  name  is  Love, 

That  sin  might  from  its  throne  of  state  be  hurled. 

She  passed  upon  her  way  with  footstep  light ; 

Her  lips  the  while  moved  oft  as  if  in  prayer, 
As  if  her  soul  in  converse  did  unite 

With  Him  whose  presence  hovers  ev'rywhere; 
And  on  she  went,  until  advancing  day 

Had  tinged  the  east  with  gold  and  crimson  dyes, 
Till  fleecy  clouds  in  all  their  fair  array 

Their  graceful  forms  spread  o'er  the  deep-blue  skies. 

And  then  she  fixed  her  sweet,  benignant  gaze 

Upon  the  heav'ns  in  reverential  love, 
And,  kneeling,  offered  orisons  and  praise 

To  Him  who  ruleth  o'er  the  powers  above. 

(46) 


RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART.  47 

An  angel  whisper  floated  through  the  air, 
And  in  sweet  accents  fell  upon  her  ear ; 

She  heard  the  words,  "Religion,  being  fair, 
Go  on  thy  way,  without  one  doubt  or  fear. 

"Accomplish  well  the  mission  to  thee  giv'n, 

Till  man  on  earth  become  all  glorified, 
Till  earth  shall  in  itself  become  a  heav'n, 

And  holiness  unfurl  its  banner  wide." 
Religion, — this  that  holy  being's  name, 

Whose  mild  eye  beamed  with  deep  devotion  rare, 
Who  unto  earth  with  sacred  mission  came, 

Whose  soul  to  heav'n  went  up  in  secret  prayer. 

Arose  she  then,  and  passed  upon  her  way, 

And,  lo !  advancing  o'er  the  lawn  was  seen 
A  being  lovely  as  the  new-born  day, 

With  thoughtful  brow  and  calm,  majestic  mien. 
Then  near  they  came,  and  each  the  other  knew; 

Religion  first  reached  forth  her  gracious  hand, 
"O  Science,"  said  she,  "greeting  bring  I  you, 

A  being  sent  on  earth  by  God's  command. 

"My  noble  sister,  tell,  where  hast  thou  been? 

And  whither  now  doth  tend  thy  onward  way? 
Through  all  night  long  I  watched  and  prayed  unseen, 

Till  in  the  east  appeared  the  gleams  of  day. ' ' 


48  RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART. 

Then  Science  spoke,  and  with  majestic  tone 

She  said,  "On  yonder  plain,  through  all  the  night, 

With  telescopic  eye  I  watched  alone 

The  orbs  of  heav'n,  until  the  morning  light. 

"Through  many  days,  when  stars  are  all  concealed, 

Deep  mysteries  of  Nature  I  explore ; 
And  many  truths  have  I  to  man  revealed 

To  God  alone  and  angels  known  before. 
Lo !  now  I  see  upon  yon  mountain's  height, 

In  stately  beauty,  Fame's  proud  temple  stand ; 
I  see  its  pillars  and  its  domes  of  light, 

With  groves  of  laurel-trees  on  either  hand. 

"And  thither  would  I  bend  my  onward  way, 

To  raise  an  altar  there,  whereon  to  place 
Fair  Wisdom's  trophies  I  have  brought  to-day, 

And  high  upon  its  glist'ning  dome  to  trace 
The  names  of  those  whom  Science  joyful  finds, 

Those  heralds  of  the  truths  by  Science  taught, 
Whose  noble  thoughts  that  spring  from  noble  minds, 

Alike  with  grandeur  and  with  truth  are  fraught." 

Thus  Science  spoke,  nor  knew  that  by  her  side 

A  being  other  than  Religion  stood; 
For  Art  had  come  from  wand'ring  far  and  wide, 

And  paused  to  meet  her  sisters  fair  and  good. 


RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART.  49 

Religion  turned  her  heaven-beaming  eye, 
And  said,  while  gazing  on  Art's  lofty  brow 

"Thy  soul  is  fired  with  aspirations  high; 
To  us,  my  sister,  tell  whence  comest  now? 

"From  wand'ring  oft  by  Graecia's  classic  streams? 

From  gazing  on  Italia's  far-famed  skies, 
When  night  had  lit  them  with  its  starry  gleams, 

Or  morn  illumed  them  with  its  rosy  dyes? 
But  no !  thine  eye  is  lit  with  deeper  ray 

Than  had  it  gazed  where  Graecia's  waters  roll; 
As  if  some  beams  of  heav'n's  celestial  day 

Had  touched  the  still,  deep  fountains  of  thy  soul." 

Art  said,  "I  come  from  Inspiration's  fount; 

And  up  the  Mount  Ideal  have  I  strayed; 
To  those  alone  who  climb  this  lovely  mount 

Is  spirit  real,  substance  but  a  shade. 
And  as  musicians,  painters,  poets  there 

Beheld  the  crystal  waters  gently  flow, 
They  asked  of  Inspiration,  goddess  fair, 

That  she  would  on  them  her  rich  gifts  bestow. 

"First  came  the  poets;  with  enraptured  eyes 
They  gazed  upon  the  waters  sparkling  clear, 

All  bright  with  gleams  from  overarching  skies, 
Like  smiles  of  angels  from  some  far-off  sphere; 
5 


5o  RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART. 

And  then  the  goddess  from  the  realms  of  light 

From  laurel-trees  near  by  plucked  graceful  boughs, 

Then  dipped  them  gently  'neath  the  fountain  bright, 
And  sprinkled  drops  ambrosial  on  their  brows. 

'"Within  each  drop,'  she  said,  'lie  pearls  of  thought; 

Each  crystal  doth  with  gems  unnumbered  gleam, 
Each  gem  with  richest  imagery  is  fraught, 

And  all  things  fitting  for  the  poet's  dream. 
Go  now,  O  poets!  from  this  fountain  clear, 

Teach  man  to  love  all  holy  things  and  bright, 
Till  ye  yourselves,  in  some  celestial  sphere, 

Exchange  your  laurel  wreaths  for  crowns  of  light.' 

"Then  came  the  painters,  and  the  waters  bright. 

Were  tinged  with  hues  that  in  the  sunbeams  lie ; 
While  shadows  alternated  with  the  light, 

The  shadows  of  the  flowers  that  grew  near  by. 
The  goddess  of  the  fountain  high  in  air 

Tossed  up  the  liquid  gems  that  lay  below; 
She  smiled  upon  them,  and  then  rainbows  fair 

Were    wreathed    in    beauty   round    each    painter's 
brow. 

'"Go,  painters,'  said  she,  'from  these  rainbows  weave 
Fair  forms  of  wondrous  loveliness  and  grace; 


RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART.  ^ 

But  I  entreat  you,  ere  this  fount  you  leave, 

Gaze   once   more   in    its   depths,    that   you   may 
trace 

The  mystic  charms  that  in  those  shadows  lie; 
For  shadow,  as  the  light,  hath  beauties  rare; 

And  when  your  canvas  with  bright  hues  you  dye, 
Remember,  dark  tints  too  must  mingle  there.' 

"  Musicians  then  stood  by  the  sacred  fount, 

And  softest  zephyrs  touched  the  waters  bright ; 
Light  breezes  wafted  from  Ideal  Mount, 

Whose  sunny  slope  lay  bathed  in  purest  light. 
And  through  the  waters  went  there  such  a  thrill, 

Like  music  echoes  were  the  sounds  they  made; 
Now  low  and  sweet  as  flow  of  mountain-rill, 

Now  like  the  roar  of  torrent  or  cascade. 

"While  through  the  golden  clouds  that  o'er  them 
hung, 

Grand  music-peals  like  mighty  thunders  rolled, 
Or  like  the  anthems  deep  by  angels  sung 

When  spirit  fingers  touch  the  harps  of  gold. 
Then  Inspiration  breathed  a  holy  spell 

O'er  each  musician's  soul,  and  sweetly  said, 
'  May  ye  perform  your  sacred  mission  well 

As  o'er  the  wilds  of  earth's  dark  land  ye  tread  !' 


5 2  RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART. 

"Musicians,  painters,  poets  went  their  way, 

And  I  roamed  musing  o'er  this  lovely  plain; 
And  ere  hath  fled  the  light  of  this  fair  day 

Yon  mountain's  lofty  height  I  hope  to  gain, 
Where  Fame's  proud  temple  in  its  beauty  stands  ; 

There  Genius'  high-souled  sons  and  daughters  go^ 
From  many  nations  and  from  many  lands, 

For  holy  fires  on  their  souls'  altars  glow." 

Religion  all  the  while  had  listened  there, 

And  when  Art  ceased,  in  prayer  she  bowed  her  head. 
Then  soon  again  she  to  her  sisters  fair 

In  gentle  tones  and  in  sweet  accents  said, 
"  O  glorious  Art !  with  eye  that  beams  inspired, 

Within  whose  soul* the  soul  of  beauty  lies, 
Where  wander  beauty's  forms,  in  robes  attired 

All  touched  with  rainbow  tints  and  sunbeam  dyes. 

"O  noble  Science!  daughter  of  the  skies, 

O  being  of  a  bright  celestial  birth ! 
Whose  hand  unfolds  all  Nature's  mysteries, 

And  scatters  beams  of  truth  throughout  the  earth, 
Come,  go  with  me,  ascend  the  mount  of  God, 

And  at  the  cross  of  Calv'ry  humbly  kneel; 
Come,  tread  with  me  where  Christ's  own  feet  have  trod, 

And  Christ  shall  there  to  you  Himself  reveal. 


RELIGION,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART.  53 

"Then  ye  to  yonder  mount  shall  wend  your  way, 

And  raise  an  altar  there  'neath  Fame's  proud  dome, 
Its  spires  all  glist'ning  in  the  light  of  day 

And  pointing  upward  to  the  spirit's  home. 
And  there  shall  Genius'  sons  and  daughters  go, 

And  with  devotion  bend  before  your  shrine, 
When  they  have  quaffed   from  crystal  streams  that 
flow 

From  holy  Inspiration's  fount  divine." 

And  then  Religion  raised  her  eyes  benign, 
And  lifted  up  her  voice  in  holy  prayer, 

While  Science  round  her  did  her  arms  entwine, 
And  Art  embraced  them  both  while  kneeling  there. 

O  lovely  Trio  !  may  ye  ever  tread, 

With  sacred  footsteps,  o1  er  this  luorld  of  ours  ! 

And  may  earth 's  children  by  your  hands  be  led 
To  make  it  brighter  than  Elysian  bowers  ! 


5* 


FAITH,    HOPE,    AND    CHARITY. 

METHOUGHT  I  once  upon  a  summer  ev'n 

Was  seated  on  a  verdant,  flow'ry  plain  ;      / 

When  lo  !  three  lovely  beings  glided  by. 

With  rapture  on  their  faces  did  I  gaze, 

With  heav'nly  beauty  stamped.     Upon  their  brows 

Were  silver  coronets,  whereon  was  traced, 

In  characters  divine,  the  name  of  each. 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  sweet  sisters  three, 

Were  they  who  to  my  raptured  vision  now 

Appeared,  encircled  all  with  holy  light. 

Then  Faith,  the  eldest  of  the  trio,  said, 
"I  come,  O  child  of  earth  !  to  bless  mankind. 
When  all  around  is  dark,  and  sadness  casts 
Its  gloomy  mantle  o'er  the  souls  of  men, 
When  joy's  last  sunny  ray  has  fled  the  soul, 
And  even  Hope's  bright  eye  is  dimmed  with  tears, 
Oh,  then  I  bid  desponding  souls  look  up, 
And  wait,  believing,  till  God's  hand  shall  part 
The  clouds  of  sorrow  in  His  own  good  time." 

Then  Hope — with  voice  like  music-chimes  of  bells 
O'er  placid  waters  borne  at  eventide: — 
"Through  all  the  mazes  of  earth's  wilderness 
(54) 


FAITH,  HOPE,  AND    CHARITY.  55 

I  light  man's  checkered  pathway.     When  at  last 
Life's  race  is  nobly  run,  and  earthly  scenes 
Depart,  I  point  him  onward  to  a  world 
Of  blissful  immortality  beyond." 

She  ceased,  and  Charity,  with  voice  unlike 
The  buoyant  tones  of  her  bright  sister  Hope, 
•With  thrilling  cadence  spoke  harmonious, 
Like  sweetest  seraph  strains  from  heaven-land: — 

"My  gentle  scepter  silently  I  sway 
O'er  those  who  bid  me  dwell  within  their  hearts. 
'Neath  my  sweet  influence  man's  soul  grows  strong 
To  bear  with  cheerfulness  life's  daily  cross. 
The  hearts  of  men  with  Love's  enduring  chain 
I  gently  bind,  thus  linking  earth  to  heav'n." 

"Oh,  then,"  I  said,  when  Charity  had  ceased, 
"Sweet  beings,  come  and  dwell  with  me,  and  be 
My  guardian  angels.     Then,  whate'er  betide, 
Though  earthly  friends  depart,  and  cherished  hopes 
Forever  fade  away,  I  shall  be  blest." 


LINES   ON   THE   DEATH   OF   H.    W.    B. 

OH,  can  it  be  that  thou  hast  passed  away, 
My  own  dear  little  brother?  can  it  be 
That  I  shall  ne'er  again  behold  thy  face? 

But  little  more  than  one  short  year  had  fled 
Since  in  the  cold  and  silent  grave  was  laid 
Another  precious  little  form,  and  then 
Upon  my  soul  this  deep,  dark  shadow  fell, 
That  ever,  ever  more  must  linger  there, 
Until  we  meet  where  death  can  never  part. 

No  longer  may  I  clasp  within  my  own 
Thy  little  baby  hands,  nor  on  thy  lips 
And  cheek  and  brow  impress  a  sister's  kiss; 
My  voice  no  more  shall  soothe  thee  into  sleep, 
For  thou  wilt  never  wake  on  earth  again. 

Thou  wast  a  little  sunbeam  in  my  path ; 
And  now,  how  sad  to  think  that  thou  art  gone  ! 
Oh,  thou  wast  lovely  e'en  when  death  had  set 
Its  seal  upon  thy  brow,  and  sleeping  'mid 
The  flowers  our  loving  hands  about  thee  placed. 
The  rosebud  white  within  thy  little  hand 
Was  fair,  sweet  emblem  of  thy  innocence. 
It  is  not  wrong  that  I  should  grieve  for  thee; 
(56) 


LINES   ON  THE  DEATH  OF  H.    W.  B. 

A  pitying  Saviour  chideth  not  my  tears ; 
For  when  His  eye  beheld  the  grief  of  those 
Who  mourned  beside  their  only  brother's  tomb, 
His  own  great,  loving  heart  with  sympathy 
O'erflowed,  and  "  Jesus  wept." 

'Twill  not  be  long, 

Dear  little  Herbert;  but  a  little  while 
And  we  shall  meet  where  comes  no  grief  nor  pain. 
Though  now  I  cannot  go  to  thee,  I  trust 
Thy  spirit-presence  oft  may  hover  near. 

And,  whether  God  has  numbered  out  to  me 
Years  few  or  many,  may  I  well  perform 
My  life-work !     Then,  when  I  have  gathered  all 
The  brightest,  noblest  treasures  that  those  years 
Shall  bring  to  me,  together  we  will  view 
The  unveiled  glories  of  those  higher  spheres. 


57 


THE    OCEAN   BURIAL. 

IT  was  midnight  on  the  sea, 

And  a  tempest  raged  around, 
While  the  billows  wild  and  free, 

With  a  rushing,  roaring  sound, 
Dashed  against  a  noble  bark, 

As  it  plowed  its  way  along 
Through  the  treach'rous  waves  so  dark, 

In  their  midnight  drap'ry  hung. 

Yes,  'twas  midnight  on  the  main, 

Midnight  solemn,  dark,  and  drear ; 
By  the  lonely  couch  of  pain 

Sat  a  mother,  pale  with  fear. 
But  the  storm  she  heeded  not 

That  without  was  raging  wild ; 
All  its  terrors  were  forgot 

While  she  watched  her  dying  child. 

"Mother,"  said  the  dying  one, 
In  sweet  accents  low  but  clear, 

"Tell  me,  is  my  life's  work  done? 
Tell  me,  for  I  do  not  fear." 

Then  the  mother  gently  bent 

O'er  the  couch  with  tearful  eye; 
(58) 


THE    OCEAN  BURIAL. 

And  the  maiden  seemed  content 
When  she  told  her  she  must  die. 

"Mother,  I  had  thought  my  tomb 

Near  our  own  loved  home  should  be; 
Where  the  violets  would  bloom 

In  their  beauty  over  me. 
Now  I  hear  my  Father  call 

From  his  mansions  in  the  sky, 
And  I  care  not  what  befall, — 

Care  not  though  I  here  must  die. 

"So  when  my  cold  form  they  lay 

'Neath  the  ocean  wave  to  rest, 
Let  not  one  regret,  I  pray, 

Find  a  place  within  thy  breast. 
Angel  eyes  are  watching  me, 

Angel  music  greets  my  ear 
Jesus,  He  will  comfort  thee ; 

Death's  dark  vale  I  do  not  fear. 

"  No,  oh,  no  !  e'en  though  the  sea 

O'er  this  cold,  frail  form  may  foam, 
From  all  care  and  sorrow  free, 

I  shall  rest  secure  at  home." 
While  the  mother  watched  her  child, 

Came  the  messenger  of  Death ; 
Closed  the  maiden's  blue  eye  mild, 

Breathed  on  her  his  icy  breath. 


59 


60  THE    OCEAN  BURIAL. 

Morning  dawned,  and  all  was  still ; 

For  the  storm  had  died  away, 
Subject  to  His  all-wise  will, 

Whom  the  winds  and  sea  obey. 
For  the  mother's  heart-felt  grief, 

Yielding  almost  to  despair, 
Earth  afforded  no  relief; 

This  she  found  at  last  in  prayer. 

Ere  another  night  had  fled 

Slept  the  maiden  in  her  grave, — 

Slept  with  the  unnumbered  dead, 
'Neath  the  ocean's  briny  wave. 


Oh  !  thou  great  and  mighty  deep, 

Holding  in  thy  caverns  strong 
Loved  ones,  for  whom  many  weep, 

And  have  wept  for,  oh  !  so  long  ; 
There  shall  come  a  time  when  thou 

In  thy  majesty  sublime. 
Though  reluctantly,  shalt  bow 

To  the  stern  decree  of  time. 

Then,  when  from  Jehovah's  eye 
Guilty  hearts  would  fain  have  fled, 

Thou  shalt  hear  the  angel's  cry, — 
"  Let  the  sea  give  up  its  dead.'1 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  OLD  YEAR- 
THE  COMING  OF  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

ALL  night  long,  strange,  dirgelike  voices 
Floated  wildly  on  the  night-winds, 
Whisp'ring  this  one  word,  "To-morrow." 
And  the  Midnight  said,  "  'To-morrow?' 
What,  O  Night-winds,  of  '  To-morrow  ?'  " 
And  the  dirgelike  voices  answered, 
"Know'st  thou  not,  O  solemn  Midnight, 
Knowest  thou  not  that  on  the  morrow 
-    Comes  the  parting  of  the  Old  Year  ? 
Hark  !  e'en  now  we  hear  him  sighing, 
Though  he  knows  not  he  is  dying, 
To  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  sighing, 
Who  will  whisper,  '  Thou  art  dying?'  ' 
And  the  solemn  Midnight  answered, 
"  Wait  until  the  dawn  of  morning; 
Wait,  and  let  the  sweet  Day  whisper 
To  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  sighing, 
Whisper  softly,  'Thou  art  dying.'  ' 
So  they  waited  till  the  morning. 

6  (61) 


62          THE  PARTING    OF  THE    OLD    YEAR— 

But  the  sweet  Day,  gently  weeping 
Till  soft  mists  her  eyelids  covered, 
Said,  "Oh,  no,  I  cannot  whisper 
To  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  sighing, 
Cannot  whisper,  '  Thou  art  dying. '  ' 
Quickly  then  the  mists  dispersing, 
Op'ning  wide  her  eyes  of  beauty, 
Looked  she  on  the  earth  so  joyous. 
But  the  Old  Year,  though  he  knew  not 
That  his  hours  were  almost  numbered, 
Gazed  upon  her  face  in  sadness. 
And  the  Day,  now  gay  and  merry, 
Dropped  from  out  her  fairy  fingers 
Gleaming  sunbeams,  bright  and  golden, 
Till  they  rested  like  a  halo 
Round  his  brow,  so  pale  and  wrinkled. 

When  the  laughing  Day  departed, 
And  her  golden  beams  no  longer 
Rested  'mong  his  locks  so  hoary, 
Then  the  Old  Year  watched  her  sadly, 
Till  her  robes  of  gold  and  purple, 
Trailing  down  the  western  heavens, 
Were  obscured  by  Twilight's  shadows. 
And  the  Twilight  would  not  whisper 
To  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  sighing, 
Would  not  whisper,  "Thou  art  dying." 

So  the  Midnight,  deep  and  solemn, 


THE    COMING    OF  THE   NEW   YEAR.  63 

With  her  sable  curtains  hanging, 
Hanging  like  a  pall  of  mourning, 
While  the  stars,  like  eyes  of  angels, 
In  whose  sweet  and  holy  glances 
Love  and  sorrow  both  are  mingled, 
Through  those  sable  folds  were  gleaming, — 
Yes,  the  Midnight,  calm  and  holy, 
Spoke  at  last  the  solemn  warning; 
To  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  sighing, 
Whispered  softly,  "Thou  art  dying." 

And  the  Old  Year,  sad  and  grieving, 
Wrapped  his  mantle  close  about  him, 
Crossed  the.  bound'ries  of  the  present, 
With  the  past  was  linked  forever. 

Through  the  golden  gates  of  morning 
Came  the  sweet  Day  laughing  gayly ; 
Bringing  in  her  joy  and  gladness 
Smiles  of  welcome  for  the  New  Year. 
And  the  Day's  bright  eyes  were  tearless; 
For  she  thought  not  of  the  Old  Year ; 
Had  not  heard  his  words  of  parting, 
Nor  his  sighs  of  grief  and  anguish. 
For  although  the  Day  was  lovely 
With  her  innocence  and  beauty, 
With  her  smiles  and  merry  laughter, 
Yet  the  Old  Year  in  his  sorrow 


64          THE  PARTING    OF  THE    OLD    YEAR— 

Found  in  Night's  calm,  gentle  spirit 
Something  deeper,  and  more  sacred, 
Than  the  Day,  so  gay  and  merry, 
Carried  with  her  own  gay  spirit. 
So  when  came  the  hour  of  parting, 
All  his  griefs  and  all  his  sorrows 
To  the  list'ning  Night  he  whispered. 

Thus  it  ever  is  with  mortals; 
For  of  all  the  deep  emotions 
Gushing  from  the  soul's  pure  fountains, 
Those  we  hold  to  be  most  sacred, 
Give  we  ever  to  the  keeping 
Of  the  Night,  so  calm  and  holy. 
For  the  Night  unseals  those  fountains, 
While  perchance  come  thoughts  so  holy, 
Fraught  with  such  a  mystic  meaning, 
Mortal  lips  can  never  speak  them. 

But  the  Day,  so  gay  and  merry, 
Flung  her  golden  beams  as  freely 
Round  the  young  brow  of  the  New  Year, 
As  so  lately  she  had  placed  them, 
Half  in  glee  and  half  in  sadness, 
Round  the  pale  brow  of  the  Old  Year. 
And  the  New  Year,  too,  laughed  gayly, 
As  if  death,  and  pain,  and  sorrow, 


THE    COMING    OF  THE  NEW   YEAR.          65 

As  if  all  that  grieves  and  saddens, 
From  this  earth  had  fled  forever. 

But  we,  too,  would  bring  a  greeting 
Unto  thee,  O  laughing  New  Year  ! 
Bring  a  hopeful,  tender  greeting, 
And  these  words  to  thee  would  whisper, 
"  Be  to  us  a  happy  New  Year." 
For  though  oft  the  soul  grows  stronger 
If  it  pass  with  holy  patience 
'Neath  o'erhanging  clouds  of  sorrow; 
If  it  bow  not  to  the  tempest, 
To  the  fierce,  rough  blast  of  sorrow  ; 
While  the  blue  skies  smile  above  us, 
While  the  flowers  unfold  around  us, 
Must  we  ever  love  Joy's  sunlight 
Better  far  than  Woe's  dark  storm-cloud. 

And,  O  New  Year  !  gazing  kindly 
In  thy  face,  so  bright  and  cheerful, 
Thus  it  is  we  come  to  greet  thee 
With  a  hopeful,  tender  greeting ; 
Thus  we  greet  thee,  still  repeating, 
"Be  to  us  a  happy  New  Year.'1 


6* 


ISLE    OF   THE    FAIRIES. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  island  there  lies  far  away ; 
And  ever  around  it  the  sea  breezes  play. 
There  dwelt  on  that  island  a  bright  fairy  queen, 
As  tiny  a  nymph  as  hath  ever  been  seen; 
And  with  her  dwelt  many  a  fair  little  elf, 
As  beautiful,  bright,  and  as  gay  as  herself. 

There  all  by  itself  does  this  lone  island  stand, 
And  many  a  long,  weary  mile  from  the  land. 
Its  turf  is  as  green,  decked  with  blossoms  as  fair 
As  flow'rs  of  the  tropics  so  lovely  and  rare. 
And  birds  build  their  nests  on  an  old  rocky  ledge, 
Whose  dark  summits  hang  o'er  the  clear  water's  edge. 

And  never,  no,  never  had  mortal  foot  trod 
That  isle,  with  its  flowers,  meads,  and  velvety  sod ; 
When  fairies  once  chancing  the  wild  waves  to  roam, 
Discovered  the  island  and  made  it  their  home. 
They  chose  from  their  beautiful  number  a  queen; 
And  surely  a  lovelier  never  was  seen. 

One  morn,  at  the  earliest  hour  of  the  dawn, 
Some  fairies  tripped  lightly  o'er  dew-sprinkled  lawn, 
(66) 


ISLE    OF   THE  FAIRIES.  67 

And  joining  their  hands  in  their  own  fairy  style, 
They  gayly  danced  over  their  beautiful  isle  ; 
When,  gazing  afar  o'er  the  billowy  tide, 
They  saw  a  boat  land  on  the  isle's  farther  side. 

And  lingering  not,  to  the  bower  of  their  queen 
They  hastened,  and  told  her  of  this  they  had  seen; 
She  blew  with  her  trumpet  a  clear  blast  so  shrill 
That  all  came  around  her  to  list  to  her  will ; 
And  just  as  the  sun  ushered  in  the  fair  day, 
With  speed  of  the  lightning  they  hastened  away. 

And  no  one  can  tell  where  the  fairies  have  flown ; 
The  fate  of  their  queen  hath  not  truly  been  known ; 
But  blithe,  airy  voices  some  strange  stories  tell : 
They  say  that  she  lives  in  a  beautiful  shell 
Far  down  in  the  depths  of  an  old  ocean  cave, 
Beneath  the  white  foam  of  the  billowy  wave. 

They  say  that  she,  too,  has  a  palace,  whose  halls 
Have  emerald  portals  and  coral-wreathed  walls; 
And  wears  a  bright  diamond-gemmed  crown  on  her 

head, 

Brought  up  from  the  depths  of  the  old  ocean's  bed  ; 
With  mermaids  and  ocean  nymphs  daily  she  roves 
Through  glens  of  the  sea-flower  and  mystic  alcoves. 


SOUL   SCENERY. 

EACH  human  soul  is  in  itself  a  world  ; 
A  world  with  scenery  more  wondrous  far 
Than  in  the  outer  world  was  e'er  revealed. 
To  view  aright  this  scen'ry,  we  must  turn 
Our  gaze  from  visions  of  the  outer  world, 
And  ope  Interior  Perception's  eye. 
And  trusting  to  its  clear,  discerning  light, 
We  enter  now  the  silent  realm  of  mind. 
Behold  !  the  region  of  Ideas ;  plains 
O'er  which  the  Understanding  e'er  presides  ; 
Beneath  these  plains  are  caverns,  where  are  found 
Ideas  innate,  the  truths,  the  primal  laws, 
Forever  coexistent  with  the  soul ; 
Impressed  by  God  upon  its  essence;  when 
It  'merged  from  out  the  deep  and  dark  unknown 
To  being,  in  the  universe  of  mind. 
'Tis  Reason  holds  these  treasures  in  her  trust, 
To  guard,  arrange,  combine,  and  with  the  aid 
Of  other  pow'rs,  and  other  things,  to  bring 
Rich  gems  of  thought  to  dignify  the  soul. 
Behold  !  where  Phantasy  her  mountains  rear, 
(68) 


SOUL   SCENERY.  69 

Illumined  with  Imagination's  light, 
A  lovely  spirit  treads  those  mountain  heights, — 
The  spirit  of  the  Beautiful.     And  all 
That's  noble,  great,  and  good  in  human  thought, 
The  richest  gems  from  Reason's  caves  profound, 
The  flow'rs  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  love  that  bloom 
Beside  Emotion's  pure  and  hallowed  streams, 
These  all  she  bringeth  to  the  mountain  heights. 
Behold  !  upon  the  plains  we  first  beheld 
The  spirit's  temple  consecrated  stands. 
There,  at  his  shrine,  the  priestesses  of  God, 
The  Moral  Powers,  their  ministries  devote. 
Thence  issue  all  the  virtues  hand  in  hand, 
And  crowned  with  diadems  of  grace  divine. 
Throughout  the  Soul-world  ever,  ev'ry where 
Beside  Emotion's  streams,  in  Reason's  caves, 
On  Understanding's  plains,  and  Fancy's  heights, 
There  floats  the  accents  of  a  still,  small  voice, — 
The  voice  of  Conscience,  and  the  voice  of  God. 
In  pow'r  supreme,  o'er  all  the  other  pow'rs, 
The  sov'reign  f£7//sits  arbiter  of  all, — 
The  Soul-world's  destiny  is  in  his  hand. 

The  Mighty  One,  Creator  of  all  life, 
Eternal  source  of  pow'r,  holds  life  and  death     .. 
Before  created  Will,  and  sayeth,  "Choose." 
He  chooseth  life; — and  in  the  realm  of  Mind 
Doth  order,  peace,  and  joy  reign  evermore. 


•jo  SOUL   SCENERY. 

He  chooseth  death; — the  light  in  Reason's  caves 
Grows  dim  and  doubtful ;  Reason  gropes  her  way ; 
Emotion's  streams  grow  turbid ;  on  the  heights 
Of  Phantasy  the  Beautiful  may  tread  no  more; 
The  spirit's  temple  desecrated  stands; 
The  Virtues  wonder  with  sad,  downcast  eyes; 
The  still,  small  voice  of  Conscience  louder  grows, 
Until  its  thunders  heights  and  caves  resound; 
And  Meir'ry  in  her  book  these  things  doth  seal, 
To  wait  the  op'ning  at  the  Judgment-day. 


INDIAN    MAIDEN'S    LAMENT. 

WHERE  the  rushing,  foaming  billows 

Of  a  noble  river  glide, 
With  the  gently  swaying  willows 

Flinging  shadows  o'er  its  tide; 

By  its  darkly-gleaming  water, 
On  the  lovely  flow'r-decked  shore, 

Sat  an  Indian  chieftain's  daughter 
Mourning  for  the  days  of  yore, — 

For  the  days  when  through  the  wild  wood, 
Through,  the  forest,  and  the  glade, 

She  had  wandered  in  her  childhood 
Unmolested,  unafraid ; 

When  the  red  man  down  the  river 

Floated  in  his  light  canoe; 
With  his  arrows  and  his  quiver 

Hunted  the  dark  forest  through. 

(70 


72 


INDIAN  MAIDEN'S  LAMENT. 

Once  the  sun  its  bright  rays  darted 
Over  lands  no  white  man  trod; 

Now  the  Indian,  broken-hearted, 
Sadly  pressed  his  native  sod. 

With  the  fires  of  anger  flashing 
From  her  dark  and  piercing  eye, 

Scornfully  the  tear-drops  dashing, 
Checking  ev'ry  rising  sigh, 

Wild  and  fearful  words  she  uttered 
In  that  still,  sequestered  place; 

Wrathful  imprecations  muttered 
On  the  white  man  and  his  race. 

"Time  shall  come,  O  pale-faced  nation  ! 

When  the  Spirit  ye  call  God 
Shall  pour  woe  and  desolation 

Over  all  the  land  so  broad ; 

"Blood  and  carnage,  like  a  river, 
Shall  sweep  o'er  your  country  wide, 

Making  hearts  with  anguish  quiver, 
Bearing  death-groans  on  its  tide." 

Then  her  voice  grew  low ;  and  sadness 
Lingered  o'er  the  maiden's  words. 

Hushed  seemed  ev'ry  note  of  gladness 
'Mong  the  warbling  forest  birds. 


INDIAN  MAIDEN'S  LAMENT. 

E'en  the  dark  trees  seemed  to  listen; 

Lower  bent  their  stately  heads, 
Bright  with  hues  that  on  them  glisten 

When  the  sun  its  last  beams  sheds. 

" I  am  weary,"  said  the  maiden; 

"Like  some  bird  lost  from  its  home, 
All  my  song  is  sorrow-laden, 

As  I  through  this  forest  roam. 

"Farewell,  O  thou  foaming  river! 

With  thy  lovely  flow'r-decked  shore; 
Farewell, — aye,  farewell  forever; 

I  shall  greet  thee  nevermore. 

"  For  I  feel  that  I  am  drifting 
Onward  to  death's  silent  shores ; 

Soon,  these  tired  hands  uplifting, 
I  shall  drop  life's  weary  oars. 

"Soon  I'll  reach  those  sunny  islands 

In  the  far-off  shining  sea; 
Where  upon  their  blooming  highlands 

I  shall  roam  forever  free. 

"  There  the  smiles  of  that  Great  Spirit 
Shall  repay  the  Indians'  wrong; 

Brighter  homes  they  will  inherit 
Than  the  ones  they  loved  so  long. 
7 


73 


74  INDIAN  MAIDEN'S  LAMENT. 

"  Farewell,  then,  O  foaming  river  ! 

Farewell  rock,  and  tree,  and  shore ; 
Farewell, — yes,  farewell  forever, 

I  shall  greet  ye  NEVERMORE." 


TO    THE    FLOWERS. 

O  FAIR  and  lovely  blossoms,  that  adorn 
All  nature  with  your  loveliness  and  grace ! 
From  far-off  South-lands  blew  the  breezes  mild, 
And  Springtime's  gentle  voice  again  was  heard 
That  called  you  forth  to  follow  in  her  train. 
At  her  approach  the  moaning  March-winds  fled, 
And  April,  'mid  its  sunshine  and  its  show'rs, 
Led  forth  the  floral  train  to  welcome  May. 

Oh,  say,  fair  children  of  the  blooming  spring, 
Know  ye  the  changes  that  old  Time  hath  wrought 
Since  last  the  springtime  blossoms  met  us  here  ? 
Heard  ye  the  coming  of  that  being  dread, 
The  angel  Death,  whose  dark  and  gloomy  wing 
O'er  many  hearthstones  hath  its  shadows  cast, 
That  never  on  this  earth  shall  take  their  flight  ? 
And  now  ye  bloom  o'er  many  new-made  graves, 
Where  forms  of  infancy,  of  youth,  and  age 
Are  resting  till  the  Resurrection  morn. 
Bright  eyes  that  gazed  upon  the  springtime  flow'rs 

(75) 


7 6  TO    THE  FLOWERS. 

Of  that  departed  year,  now  with  the  past 
Are  closed  forever  to  the  light  of  earth ; 
And  many  hands  that  held  them  in  their  clasp 
Are  folded  now  in  quiet,  peaceful  rest. 

Oh,  ye  are  lovely  !  wheresoe'er  ye  dwell ; 
In  far-off  Greece  by  classic  fount  and  flood, 
Beneath  Italia' s  bright  and  glowing  skies, 
In  sunny  plains,  or  silent  solitude, 
On  prairie  wild,  in  forest,  or  in  dell. 
Ye  have  ajanguage,  too,  for  ev'ry  heart; 
Ye  are  in  ev'ry  clime  and  ev'ry  land 
With  deep,  poetic  meanings  ever  fraught. 

Sweet  sisterhood  of  flow' rs,  we  welcome  you; 
And  may  your  forms  of  fragile  loveliness, 
Though  transient  bright,  remind  us  of  that  land 
To  which  our  longing  spirit  ever  turns, — 
That  land  where  beauty  never  fades  or  dies! 


THE    MIDNIGHT  VISITOR. 

IT  was  a  dreary  night  in  winter-time, 

And  from  the  mountains  swept  the  cold,  rough  blast ; 
It  was  the  hour  when  bells  of  midnight  chime, 

And  all  the  skies  with  clouds  were  overcast. 
Beside  a  hearth-fire  blazing  warm  and  bright 

An  aged  sire  sat  with  his  wife  and  child ; 
The  ev'ning  lamp  diffused  its  cheerful  light, 

Though  storms  without  were  beating  fierce  and  wild. 

"It  is  a  fearful  night,"  the  old  man  said, 

As  nearer  to  the  fire  he  drew  his  chair, 
"  For  those  who  wander  homeless  and  unfed, 

The  prey  of  poverty,  and  want,  and  care. 
And  oh  !  what  praise  should  from  our  hearts  ascend 

To  Him  who  ruleth  in  the  earth  and  sky, 
Whose  mercy  doth  to-night  our  way  attend, 

As  it  hath  ever  in  the  days  gone  by  !" 

The  wife  looked  up,  a  smile  upon  her  face, 
That  beamed  with  loveliness  and  beauty  rare ; 
7*  ( 77 ) 


7  8  THE   MIDNIGHT   VISITOR. 

For  time  had  only  left  its  gentlest  trace 
On  features  all  unmarked  by  shade  of  care ; 

And  gazing  on  the  daughter  by  her  side, 
Who  sat  absorbed  in  pensive,  dreamy  mood, 

In  sweet  and  solemn  accents  she  replied, 

"God  hath  to  us  been  ever  kind  and  good." 

"List,  father,  some  one's  knocking  at  the  door," 

The  maiden  said,  with  cheek  quick  growing  pale. 
"It  is  the  wind,  my  child,  it  is  no  more; 

Then  wherefore  doth  thine  eye  with  terror  quail?" 
And  then  they  silent  sat,  and  no  one  spoke ; 

And  save  the  night-wind's  and  the  tempest's  roar, 
No  other  sound  the  solemn  stillness  broke, 

Until  there  came  a  knocking  as  before. 

This  time  the  father  heard,  and  turned  the  lock  ; 

But  still,  for  fear,  he  opened  not  the  door ; 
He  only  said,  "Who  art  thou  that  dost  knock? 

Tell  us  thy  name,  O  stranger,  if  no  more." 
Just  then  the  cottage  door  flew  open  wide, 

And  o'er  its  threshold,  with  a  ghastly  mien, 
A  Spectre  with  a  noiseless  step  did  glide; 

But  only  by  the  maiden  was  he  seen. 

The  parents  knew  it  not ;  they  only  saw 

The  shadows  that  its  dark'ning  presence  threw 


THE  MIDNIGHT   VISITOR. 


79 


Upon  the  hearth,  and  sat  in  silent  awe, 
Until  terrific  shapes  those  shadows  grew. 

The  maiden  uttered  one  low,  wailing  cry, 

Then  her  white  lips  grew  cold,  she  could  not  speak ; 

The  eyelid  white  drooped  o'er  the  beaming  eye, 
And  faded  all  the  rose  tints  from  her  cheek. 

And  when  at  last  the  golden  rays  of  morn 

Dispelled  the  shadows  of  that  fearful  night, 
The  father,  mother,  stricken  and  forlorn, 

Gazed  on  that  form  where  death  had  left  its  blight. 
And  at  the  eventide  to  mother  earth 

They  gave  that  lovely  tenement  of  clay; 
But  still  the  shadows  lingered  on  their  hearth, 

As  if  they  nevermore  would  go  away. 

Though  many  summers  round  their  home  have  smiled, 

With  bird -songs  joyous,  bright  with  flowers'  bloom, 
Since  death  came  on  that  night  and  took  their  child, — 

Still  linger  in  their  hearts  those  shapes  of  gloom, 
That  never,  never  more  shall  take  their  flight 

Till  in  that  Land  where  comes  no  grief  nor  pain, — 
Where  death  no  more  the  soul's  fair  hopes  can  blight,— 

They  meet  their  own,  their  long-lost  child  again. 


TO   MY  SISTER,  ON  HER  EIGHTEENTH 
BIRTHDAY. 

MY  sister,  the  autumns  of  eighteen  bright  years 
With  mournful,  sweet  glory  have  made  the  earth  rife, 

Since  angels  descending  from  heavenly  spheres 
To  thee  oped  the  beautiful  gateway  of  life. 

O  life !  so  mysterious,  wondrous,  sublime  ! 

O  holiest  gift  from  the  Father  of  light ! 
May  we  have  the  wisdom,  while  dwellers  of  time, 

To  cherish  thee  sacredly,  guard  thee  aright ! 

We  know  that  each  year  as  it  circles  away 

Is  bearing  us  on  to  eternity's  shore; 
When  death's  waves  shall  dash  o'er  otir  forms  their 
cold  spray, 

We1  II pass  from  earth '  s  scenes,  to  return  nevermore. 

My  sister,  the  sun  of  our  earth  life  may  set, 
To  beam  nevermore  in  the  valley  of  time; 

But  over  our  spirits  more  glorious  yet 

Shall  heaven  life  dawn  in  eternity's  clime. 
(80) 


VOLURA'S    VISION. 

'TWAS  night;  and  silence  reigned  o'er  all  the  earth. 
The  holy  angel  Sleep  had  waved  his  wand 
O'er  many  troubled,  many  peaceful  souls, 
And  both  alike  were  soothed  to  calm  repose. 
And  there  was  one  who  on  that  silent  night, 
Long  after  ceased  the  chimes  of  midnight  bells, 
While  bright  the  stars  in  heaven's  concave  shone, 
To  meditation  deep  her  soul  had  given. 
And  while  she  mused  upon  celestial  things, 
Such  tides  of  glorious  thoughts  swept  o'er  her  soul, 
Her  being  all  with  glowing  rapture  thrilled; 
And  when  at  last  in  sleep  she  closed  her  eyes, 
This  vision  to  her  wond'ring  soul  was  giv'n: 

It  seemed,  beyond  the  confines  of  this  world, 
Though  still  enveloped  by  its  clouds  and  mists, 
In  strange  bewilderment  she  stood  alone. 
Soon  rays  of  glory  seemed  to  light  the  mists, 
A  pathway  tracing  through  the  fields  of  air; 
And  o'er  that  way  a  radiant  being  came. 

(81) 


82  VOLURA'S    VISION. 

And  as  intently  then  Volura  gazed 
Upon  the  visage  of  the  glorious  one, 
Emotions  deep  of  rapture  thrilled  her  soul. 
The  messenger  celestial  nearer  drew, 
And  said,  in  tones  more  sweet  than  music  chimes, 
"O  child  of  earth !  I  come  to  be  thy  guide; 
Come,  soar  with  me  and  view  the  works  of  God." 
Thus  saying,  then  the  angel  spread  her  wings 
To  traverse  with  Volura  spaces  vast. 

They  passed  across  the  orbit  of  our  earth ; 

Another  orbit  crossed,  and  then  they  reached 

A  planet  which,  though  smaller  than  our  own, 

Doth  nearest  that  great  luminary  lie, 

The  centre  round  which  all  the  planets  roll. 

The  name  of  this  bright  orb  is  Mercury. 

And  so  intense  with  glory  were  the  beams 

Our  sun  upon  its  varied  surface  cast, 

Volura  said,  with  wondering  delight, 

"With  scenes  sublime,  magnificent  as  these, 

Not  all  my  dreams  of  heav'n  were  ever  fraught." 

The  angel  and  Volura  soared  away; 

And  then  to  Venus'  orb  they  swiftly  came. 

'Twas  night,  and  'mid  its  firmament  of  stars 

Our  own  Earth  shone  like  some  resplendent  moon. 

Awhile  they  gazed  upon  these  midnight  heav'ns, 

Then  soon  again  their  onward  course  pursued. 


VOLURAS    VISION.  83 

They  passed  beyond  the  orbit  of  the  Earth, 
Past  Mars,  and  those  four  orbs  that  lie  between 
Its  path  and  Jupiter's  belt-circled  sphere, 
And  winged  their  silent  way  to  that  vast  orb 
Called  sov' reign  of  the  planetary  host, 
To  mighty  Saturn,  with  its  rings  and  moons. 

Two  mighty  arches  spanned  its  midnight  heav'ns, 

Reflecting  on  the  planet  glorious  light ; 

Between  these  arches  lay  a  darkened  space, 

Where  twinkling  stars  displayed  their  native  beams; 

Resplendent  moons  illumined  too  the  skies, 

Of  gibbous,  spherical,  and  crescent  forms; 

Some  rising  in  the  heav'ns  as  others  set, 

Some  passing  through  eclipses  now  and  then ; 

And,  bright'ning  still  the  glory  of  the  heav'ns, 

Amid  these  orbs  were  blazing  comets  seen. 

And  as  Volura  viewed  the  scene  sublime, 

A  solemn  spell  upon  her  soul  was  cast. 

Awhile  she  stood  in  awe  and  wonder  lost; 

Then  to  her  angel  guide  she  trembling  said, 

"O  holy  being!  tell  me  if  among 

This  bright  assemblage,  though  as  some  faint  star, 

My  home  is  seen,  the  Earth  whereon  I  dwelt." 

The  angel  said,  in  deep  and  solemn  tones, 

"Not  half  the  spaces  have  we  traversed  now 

Between  the  sun  and  planet  most  remote, 


84  VOLURAS    VISION. 

Yet  through  those  spaces  comes  no  glimm'ring  ray 
To  tell  us  of  the  planet  thou  call'st  Earth." 
Then  such  a  sense  of  deep  humility 
Sank  o'er  Volura's  soul,  it  seemed  as  though 
A  shade  of  sadness  o'er  her  spirit  crept; 
But  when  the  angel  down  upon  her  gazed, 
With  beaming  eyes  and  Heav'n-illumined  smile, 
Such  sweet  and  holy  rapture  thrilled  her  soul, 
The  sadness  passed,  she  too  looked  up  and  smiled. 

As  on  through  space  they  winged  their  silent  way, 

Uranus  in  the  distance  they  descried. 

Still  onward  they  with  their  swift  motion  passed, 

The  Solar  System  leaving  far  behind ; 

The  planetary  orbs  to  view  were  lost ; 

The  Sun  itself  now  seemed  a  twinkling  star. 

Through  spaces  then  immeasurably  vast 

They  soared  to  regions  called  the  Milky  Way, — 

When,  oh  !  what  scenes  of  grandeur  on  them  burst ! 

The  light  was  streaming  from  ten  thousand  suns, 

And  suns  round  suns  in  harmony  revolved, 

And  some  a  white  or  bluish  luster  cast 

On  other  suns  of  green  or  crimson  hue, 

And  with  contrasted  light  illumed  the  worlds 

Which  round  those  mighty  suns  for  centers  rolled. 

Not  then  Volura  nor  the  angel  spoke, 


VOLURA? S   VISION.  8' 

But  both  with  rapt  devotion  viewed  the  scene ; 
And  ringing  clear,  through  purest  ether  borne, 
They  heard  from  far  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

A  silence  passed,  and  then  the  angel  said, 
While  tears  celestial  filled  her  holy  eyes, 
"  O  Mighty  One  !  who  rul'st  the  universe, 
From  angels,  seraphim,  and  starry  spheres 
To  Thee  be  ever  praise  and  glory  giv'n." 

Still,  on  Creation's  verge  they  only  stood ; 

Through  regions  more  profound  of  boundless  space 

Were  countless  nebulae  dispersed  around. 

They  soared  away  'mid  regions  still  more  bright; 

And  o'er  Volura  now  the  angel  spread 

Her  wing,  to  shield  her  from  the  dazzling  beams. 

But  now  a  change  ;  for  hitherto  their  way 

Had  only  been  through  realms  of  glorious  light ; 

But  far  removed  from  these  resplendent  scenes 

Before  them  lay  a  lone  and  darksome  void, 

So  far  remote  that  rays  of  distant  suns 

Could  only  of  this  darkness  twilight  make. 

So  wondrous  to  Volura  was  the  change 

From  light  to  shade,  she  scarce  could  tell  the  way, 

Till  once  again  the  angel  spread  her  wings, 

Reflecting  from  their  folds  now  heav'nly  light. 


86  VOLURA'S   VISION. 

At  last  upon  the  verge  of  this  dim  void 
A  bright  and  heav'nly  radiance  there  gleamed ; 
More  spiritual  light  than  sun  or  star 
Dispersed  throughout  the  spaces  left  behind. 
And  then  the  angel  to  Volura  said, 
"O  child  of  Earth!    through  depths  of  space  pro 
found 

Of  God's  great  universe  I've  passed  with  thee. 
And  now  thou  near'st  with  me  the  spirit's  home, 
Where  kindred  spirits  wait  to  welcome  me. 
They  too  will  welcome  thee.     They  love  the  good, 
The  true,  the  noble,  the  aspiring  soul, 
In  mortal  or  immortal  form  that  breathes. 
Still  on  through  silent  depths  of  boundless  space 
Unnumbered  suns  and  starry  systems  roll, 
And  all  the  universe  of  God  revolves 
Around  the  center  of  infinity. 
But  enter  now  with  me  this  blest  abode." 

Soon  o'er  a  gold-paved  way  they  seemed  to  tread, 
While  round  and  o'er  them  crystal  arches  hung  ; 
There  holy  fountains,  streams  perennial,  flowed, 
And  spirit  forms  were  wand'ring  to  and  fro. 
Where'er  the  angel  and  Volura  turned, 
They  met  the  glances  of  their  spirit  eyes ; 
For  in  those  realms  of  light,  and  joy,  and  love, 


VOLURAS    VISION.  87 

Smile   answers   beaming   smile,  thought  answers 

thought. 

And  then  the  angel  led  Volura  on 
Where  seraph  minstrels  chanted  holy  praise 
Around  some  center,  all  in  circles  ranged, 
And,  lo  !  that  center  was  a  glorious  Throne  ; 
A  Throne  of  dazzling  whiteness,  overhung 
With  golden  clouds,  whose  fair  ethereal  folds 
A  holy  radiance  o'er  all  diffused. 
And  seated  high  upon  this  dazzling  Throne, 
And  in  primeval  glory  all  arrayed, 
The  glory  by  the  Father  to  Him  giv'n 
Ere  suns  and  stars  from  ancient  chaos  sprang, 
Was  God's  own  Son.    Beside  the  Throne  there  stood 
Two  beings :   one  majestic  in  his  mien, 
In  whose  right  hand  a  golden  balance  swung, 
And  Justice  was  the  mighty  being's  name, 
The  vindicator  of  God's  holy  law. 
Of  sweet  and  holy  and  of  milder  mien 
Than  that  stern  being  who  beside  her  stood, 
Was  Mercy,  pleading  angel  sent  to  stand 
Between  stern  Justice'  wrath  and  fallen  man. 

Volura  stood  beside  her  spirit  guide, 

And  with  adoring  rev'rence  viewed  the  scene. 

"  O  child  of  Earth  !"  the  holy  angel  cried, 


88  VOLURAS    VISION. 

"Come,  nearer  draw,  and  bow  before  the  Throne." 

Then  seraph  voices,  seraph  lyres,  were  mute, 

And  in  that  silence  deep  the  Saviour  said, 

"  O  mortal  one  !    thou  comest  from  that  orb 

Where  inharmonious  elements  are  rife ; 

Where  Truth,  though  ever  striving,  hath  not  yet 

The  scepter  wrested  from  dark  Error's  hands. 

But  Truth,  triumphant  still,  shall  reign  at  last, 

And  Error,  with  its  self-benighted  train, 

Be  banished  to  the  realms  of  endless  night. 

And  then  shall  earth  be  all  one  paradise, 

Where  love  shall  fold  its  wing  of  purity, 

And  peace  again  o'er  all  its  scenes  shall  smile. 

And  soon  to  earth  thou  shalt  return  again ; 

But  let  the  glorious  scenes  which  thou  hast  viewed 

A  lasting  impress  leave  upon  thy  soul. 

If  thou  thy  earthly  mission  well  fulfill, 

Thou  shalt  return  again  to  these  blest  scenes, 

And  still  progress  in  knowledge,  virtue,  truth, 

Through  all  the  ages  of  eternity." 

Then  while  the  Saviour  on  Volura  gazed, 

New  thrills  of  joy  her  inmost  being  filled  ; 

She  prayed — and,  oh !  how  earnest  was  the  prayer — 

That  she  through  all  life's  coming  days  might  be 

Forever  shadowed  by  an  angel's  wing, 

forever  gladdened  by  a  Saviour 's  love. 


VOLURA'S    VISION.  89 

And  then  the  angel  to  Volura  said, 
"Behold!  yon  silv'ry  cloud  that  floats  above 
Shall  waft  thee  gently  on  thy  earthward  way." 
As  seraph  fingers  touched  the  golden  lyres, 
Volura  floated  on  that  cloud  away; 
While  hallelujahs  filled  the  dome  of  heav'n, 
And  round  and  round  the  crystal  arches  rang 
The  anthems  loud  and  deep,  by  seraphs  raised 
To  Him  who  ever  was,  and  knows  no  end. 


8* 


THE    SONG-LAND. 

O  LOVELY  and  ideal  realm  of  thought ! 

O  land  of  poet- dreams  !  how  soft  the  airs 

That  o'er  thy  valleys  and  thy  mountains  blow! 

And  bright  thybow'rs  and  fountains  sparkling  clear, 

And  flow'rs  of  brilliant  hues  bedeck  thee  o'er. 

A  noble  being  over  thee  presides : 

The  goddess  fair  of  mountain,  vale,  and  fount. 

Majestic,  and  yet  gentle,  is  her  mien. 

A  diadem  of  light  rests  on  her  brow, 

And  golden  sunbeams  gleam  amid  her  hair, 

And  all  her  soul  doth  speak  its  language  clear 

From  out  the  glances  of  her  beaming  eye. 

The  sweet  inspirer  of  high  thought  is  she, 

And  Inspiration  is  the  goddess'  name. 

0  lovely  and  entrancing  land  of  song  ! 
So  sacred  unto  all  that's  pure  and  bright, 
The  lights  and  shadows  that  upon  thee  fall 
Before  my  mental  vision  e'er  appear. 

1  love  thy  hills  and  vales,  thy  founts  and  bow'rs; 
But,  oh!  I  love  thy  tow' ring  mountains  more, 
Where  echoings  immortal  ever  ring, 

(90) 


THE  SONG-LAND.  9 1 

And  where  the  heavens,  lit  with  God's  own  smile, 
In  love  and  peace  bend  o'er  their  summits  grand. 
And  there,  too,  Poesy  her  garlands  twines 
To  grace  with  beauty  Science'  noble  brow. 
The  Muses  Science  as  a  sister  claim, 
And  many  off'rings  unto  her  they  bring 
In  token  of  their  reverence  and  love. 

Or  how  or  whensoe'er  to  me  were  oped 
Thy  gates,  O  fair  and  wondrous  land  of  song  ! 
This  do  I  know;  the  paths  and  winding  ways 
I  to  that  entrance  back  can  ne'er  retrace. 
For  fetters,  light  as  if  of  ether  made, 
Yet  strong  as  if  of  iron  texture  wrought, 
Have  cast  their  mystic  links  about  my  soul 
And  bound  it  ever  to  the  soul  of  Song. 

May  He  who  unto  all  a  mission  gives, 

Shield   from  the   too  rough   blasts   that  sometimes 

sweep 

Relentless  o'er  the  wilds  of  earth's  dark  land, 
And  safely  guide  through  life's  meand'ring  way, 
Till  in  the  song-land  of  the  realms  above, 
All  bright  with  poet-visions  clearer  far 
Than  e'er  to  mental  gaze  on  earth  are  giv'n, 
The  soul  shall  sing  in  noblest  strains  to  Him, 
Creator  of  the  beautiful  and  bright. 


LIFE'S   RIVER. 

BY  a  gently  flowing  river, 
In  the  quiet  hour  of  sunset, 
Once  a  maiden  sat  and  pondered. 
Soon  the  quiet  scene  before  her 
Seemed  to  change,  as  if  by  magic ; 
And  she  thought  that  she  was  standing 
By  a  broader,  deeper  river, 
O'er  whose  wide  and  restless  waters 
Many,  many  barks  were  sailing, 
Laden  with  immortal  beings. 

In  this  stream  were  many  islands, 
Some  of  them  all  bright  and  lovely, 
Covered  with  the  fairest  verdure  ; 
Lofty  trees  with  pleasant  shadows, 
Blossoms  of  the  sweetest  fragrance, 
Fountains  of  clear,  gushing  waters, 
Made  them  fair  almost  as  Eden. 

In  this  stream  were  rocky  islands, 
With  their  cliffs  all  dark  and  frowning 
Rising  from  the  river-channel ; 
(92) 


LIFE'S  RIVER. 


93 


While  the  waters  round  them  flowing 
Foamed  and  dashed  like  ocean  billows. 

Now  and  then  a  bark  was  stranded 
On  those  bleak  and  barren  islands, 
Or  engulfed  within  the  surges 
Round  them  rushing  swiftly,  wildly. 
Then  the  dark  cliffs  of  those  islands 
Sent  forth  echoes  wild  and  dismal ; 
Echoes  of  the  cries  of  anguish 
And  the  wild  shrieks  of  the  victims. 

While  the  maiden  thus  intently 
Gazed  upon  the  scene  before  her, 
Lo  !  there  came  a  glorious  being, 
Clad  in  robes  all  white  and  gleaming, — 
Came  and  stood  beside  the  maiden, 
Fixed  his  spirit  gaze  upon  her, 
Lit  with  holy  inspiration. 

And  she  said,  "  O  holy  being  ! 
Tell  me  of  this  wondrous  river ; 
Tell  me  of  those  sunny  islands, 
With  their  bow'rs  and  trees  and  fountains ; 
Tell  me  of  yon  rocky  islands, 
With  their  cliffs  all  dark  and  frowning." 

Then  the  angel,  smiling  sweetly, 
Though  his  smile  was  tinged  with  sadness, 
Quickly  thus  addressed  the  maiden: 

"This  is  Life's  swift-rushing  river. 


94 


LIFE'S  RIVER. 

Yonder  bright  and  sunny  islands 

Are  the  isles  of  joy  and  gladness, — 

Joys  so  bright,  but  brief  and  fleeting. 

Askest  thou  of  yon  dark  islands  ? 

There  Remorse,  like  some  wan  specter, 

To  and  fro  is  wand' ring  ever. 

And  when  mortals,  wand' ring,  erring, 

Love  no  more  the  good  and  noble, 

Love  no  more  the  pure  and  holy, 

Spirits  from  the  realms  of  darkness 

Urge  them  onward  to  those  surges, 

To  those  dark  and  fatal  islands ; 

With  Despair's  black,  starless  midnight 

Hanging  with  its  gloom  above  them, 

There  in  hopelessness  they  perish, 

Lost  to  earth  and  lost  to  heaven. 

Sometimes  tearful-eyed  Repentance, 

Ere  they  reach  those  fearful  islands, 

Guides  them  to  some  quiet  haven. 

But  their  barks  are  tempest-beaten  ; 

They  have  lost  fair  Truth's  bright  blossoms, 

Most  of  Wisdom's  precious  jewels ; 

Only  after  toil  and  labor, 

After  weary,  weary  waitings, 

Can  they  gain  more  of  those  treasures. 

So  they  find,  although  Renentance 

Sanctifieth,  while  it  blesseth, 


LIFE'S  RIVER. 


95 


Innocence,  that  guardian  angel, 
Still  is  better  than  Repentance." 

In  low  accents,  then  the  maiden 
Spoke  again  unto  the  angel: 
"On  the  banks  of  this  swift  river 
Grow  dark  trees  with  drooping  branches; 
And  they  fling  their  somber  shadows 
Far  across  the  rolling  billows. 
And  when  o'er  the  deep,  deep  waters, 
Darkened  by  these  mournful  shadows, 
Sails  a  bark  with  mortals  laden, 
Lo  !  a  change  comes  o'er  their  faces : 
Lips  no  more  with  smiles  are  parted  ; 
Eyes  no  more  with  laughter  glisten ; 
But  a  strange,  strange  look  of  sorrow 
Settles  dark  upon  their  faces. 
Now  and  then  a  tearful  mortal 
Lifts  an  eye  of  faith  to  heaven, 
Gazes,  too,  on  yonder  mountains, 
With  their  summits  crowned  with  verdure 
Bathed  in  purest  light  celestial. 
Now  explain,  O  holy  being, 
This  strange  scene,  so  fraught  with  myst'ry." 
Thus  she  said.     The  angel  answered,      * 
"  While  the  dark,  dark  trees  of  sorrow 
Fling  their  deep  and  mournful  shadows 
O'er  the  current  of  Life's  waters, 


96  LIFE'S  RIVER. 

Woe  and  pain  and  grief  and  anguish 

Still  must  be  the  lot  of  mortals. 

Oft  the  noble  soul  grows  nobler, 

Stronger  made  through  what  it  suffers ; 

Driven  from  the  sunny  islands 

Of  earth's  joys,  so  bright,  but  fleeting, 

To  the  everlasting  mountains^ 

To  the  heights  beyond,  above  it, 

With  imploring  gaze  it  turneth, 

Asking  for  the  smiles  of  Heaven 

And  the  love  of  God  and  angels. 

And  in  far-off  realms  of  glory, 

Where  eternal  skies  are  gleaming, 

Where  no  shadows  e'er  have  fallen, 

And  the  night  hath  never  entered, 

All  earth's  sorrow-stricken  children, 

Trusting  in  the  arm  Almighty, 

Dwell  at  last  in  peace  and  gladness. 

When  are  past  life's  storms  and  tempests, 

All  its  shadows  and  its  darkness, 

Then  in  loving  tones  the  spirit, 

Bound  no  more  to  earth's  dominions, 

In  its  holy  joy  may  utter, 

*  Even  for  the  hour  of  anguish 

I  would  praise  Thee,  O  my  Father.' ' 


THE    SPECTER. 

AMONG  the  demon  forms  that  wander  o'er 
Our  world,  those  shapes  of  sin,  first  causes  great 
Of  ev'ry  earthly  ill  and  ev'ry  woe, 
A  specter  walks,  the  victims  of  whose  wiles, 
Lured  down  to  death,  in  numbers  far  exceed 
Those  slain  upon  the  battle-fields  of  earth. 
Through  hours  of  night,  at  midday,  at  all  times, 
Dauntless  and  unabashed  he  stalks  abroad. 
And  many  are  the  gifted  and  the  proud 
Who  fall  into  his  snares  and  lose  their  all; 
The  consciousness  within  of  hearts  upright 
And  pure ;  all  hope  of  happiness  and  peace 
In  this  the  present  life  or  that  beyond; 
While  this  destroyer  writes  upon  each  one, 
In  characters  that  may  be  read  by  all, 
His  name — Intemperance. 

Where'er  doth  come 

This  soul-polluting  presence,  shadows  fall 
More  dark  than  those  which  hang  around  the  tomb. 
For  as  his  footsteps  o'er  the  threshold  pass 
Of  homes  where  joy  abode,  how  soon 

9  (97) 


98 


THE  SPECTER. 


From  those  who  watch  the  loved  one's  fall,  departs 

The  sunlight  of  the  soul!     In  vain  for  them, 

So  far  as  aught  of  gladness  is  concerned, 

The  morn,  her  fingers  tinged  with  roseate  hues, 

Above  day's  banner  glorious  unfurls, 

O'er  whose  blue  field  noontide  throws  cloudy  folds; 

And  eve,  with  gentle  aspect  coming  on, 

A  gold  and  purple  lining  gives  to  each, 

Then  closer  wraps  the  gorgeous  folds,  till  from 

The  earth  fades  out  the  glad  and  beauteous  day. 

So  come  and  go  the  sunset,  morn,  and  noon, 

No  more  with  images  of  beauty  fraught 

To  those  sad  hearts  who  in  each  joyous  thing 

See  naught  but  bitter  mock'ry  of  their  grief. 

The  vigils  kept  through  many  midnight  hours, 
The  bitter,  bitter  tears  that  silent  fall, 
Beheld  by  none  save  the  All-seeing  Eye, 
Are  all  by  God's  recording  angel  kept 
In  His  own  book. 

Remember,  ye  who  urge 
This  demon  on,  that  ye  may,  from  the  spoil 
And  ruin  by  him  wrought,  your  coffers  fill, 
For  your  wrong  deeds  just  punishment  shall  come, 
And  dealt  by  Him  IVJw  vengeance  calls  His  own. 


THE    HUMAN    SOUL.— ITS     PAST, 
PRESENT,    AND    FUTURE. 

O  HUMAN  soul !  thou  wondrous  work  divine, 

Born  later  than  the  spheres,  yet  shall  survive  them  all, 

Whence  comest  thou?  and  whither  tends  thy  way? 

Tell  us,  O  human  soul!   thy  history; 

Tell  us,  O  human  soul !  thy  destiny. 

Long  silent  ages  have  their  courses  run 

Since  on  this  earth  thy  presence  first  was  known ; 

Oh,  tell  us,  in  that  dim  and  silent  past, 

Amid  what  lights  and  shadows  thou  hast  roamed, 

What  holy  aspirations  have  been  thine, 

What  revolutions  in  the  spheres  of  thought, 

What  conflicts  and  what  vict'ries  thou  hast  known, 

What  revelations  have  to  thee  been  giv'n. 

And  where,  O  soul !  hast  thou  thy  records  left  ? 

Amid  the  band  of  muses,  is  there  one 

Who  keeps  for  aye  the  sacred  trust  for  thee? 

If  such  there  be,  O  muse !  whate'er  thy  name, 

We  breathe  an  invocation  unto  thee. 

Behold!  she  comes,  of  bright  and  noble  mien, 
A  calm  light  beaming  in  her  serious  eye. 

(99) 


loo  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

Within  one  hand  she  bears  an  ancient  scroll; 

And  Clio,  muse  of  Hist'ry,  takes  our  hand, 

To  lead  us  back  into  the  silent  past, 

To  search  thy  history,  O  human  soul ! 

She  lifts  the  veil  of  sixty  centuries. 

And  now  behold,  in  Palestina's  clime 

The  human  soul,  rejoicing  in  its  pow'rs 

Of  new-born  dignity  and  strength,  receives 

Primeval  science  from  its  Maker's  hand, 

Exalted  converse  doth  with  beings  hold, 

Immortal  dwellers  of  celestial  spheres, 

Yet  drawn  by  holy  bonds  of  sympathy 

With  human  soul  companionship  to  claim. 

These  were  thy  Eden  days,  O  human  soul ! 

Whence  came  o'er  thee  so  soon  that  shadow  dark? 

It  was  the  shadow  of  Jehovah's  frown; 

For  thou  His  mandate  high  hadst  disobeyed, 

And  broke  the  bonds  uniting  thee  to  Heav'n. 

Then  some  of  thy  great  pow'rs,  to  powers  turned 

Of  darkness,  and  yet  mighty  still  in  strength, 

Worked  woe  and  desolation  all  around. 

A  moral  darkness  spread  o'er  all  the  earth; 

Just  indignation  filled  the  courts  of  Heaven, 

And  sadness  reigned  far  through  the  universe; 

The  very  heav'ns,  that  sphered  the  darkened  earth, 

Grew  black  and  dismal  at  Jehovah's  frown. 

The  angry  clouds  then  to  each  other  spoke 


THE  HUMAN  SOUL.  IOi 

In  tongues  of  fire;  and  back  the  answers  came 
In  hollow  groans.     The  fountains  of  the  deep 
Were  broken  up,  and  heaven's  windows  oped; 
And  earth  was  buried  'neath  a  wat'ry  tide. 
Long  days  and  nights  the  elements  prevailed. 
At  last,  by  mandate  of  the  Will  supreme, 
The  earth  emerged  from  its  baptismal  flood. 
And  now  for  thee,  O  soul !  new  life  began ; 
For,  humbled,  and  distrustful  of  thy  own, 
But  filled  with  awe  at  the  Almighty  pow'r, 
The  infinite  now  reigneth  o'er  thy  thoughts. 
These  were  thy  days  of  faith,  O  human  soul ! 
An  epoch  in  thy  history,  sublime. 
'Twas  then,  when  God  to  earth  again  drew  near, 
From  Sinai,  witness  of  His  presence  dread, 
The  Revelation  unto  thee  was  giv'n, 
Unfolding,  O  thou  soul !  thy  duties  high. 
And  now  we  turn  from  Palestina's  land, 
And  journey  far  away  to  other  climes. 
The  burning  skies  of  India  o'er  us  bend; 
And,  far  beyond,  the  seas  of  China  roll.* 
The  clust'ring  hills  of  Persia  gently  rise; 
And  Egypt's  land  is  in  the  distance  seen. 
Yet  o'er  these  lands,  so  rich  in  nature's  gifts, 
The  light  of  Revelation  had  not  shone. 
Yet,  bearing  as  thou  didst,  O  human  soul ! 
Thy  Maker's  image  in  thy  essence  deep, 
9* 


102  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

Here,  as  a  dweller  of  these  tropic  climes, 

Deprived  of  Revelation's  clearer  light 

To  tell  thee  of  the  true  and  only  God, 

Yet  from  the  dim  vague  mem'ries  of  thy  birth, 

And  from  thy  intuitions  strong  and  deep, 

Thy  thought   pow'rs   strange  yet   grand  conceptions 

wrought. 

The  muse  of  History  unrolls  her  scroll; 
And,  gazing  on  its  mystic  page,  we  trace 
These  strange  bright  offsprings  of  primordial  thought. 

And  who  this  Being  pure,  the  Infinite? 
First  substance,  plunged  in  slumber  deep  divine, 
Existence  wrapped  in  shadows  luminous? 
Yet,  waking  from  this  slumber,  speaks  the  word, 
And  all  creation  into  being  springs. 
To  India's  clime  the  muse  of  Hist'ry  turns, 
And  says  to  us,  "  Behold  their  deity." 
Philosophy  and  science  here  unfold, 
All  wrapped  in  these  primordial  forms  of  thought. 

But  in  the  past  we  may  not  linger  long; 
And  farther  gaze  along  the  mystic  page. 
Taiki — the  summit  great,  what  means  this  name? 
'Tis  Reason  primitive,  whence  all  proceeds; 
And  all  creation  on  this  summit  rests. 
Where  had  this  thought  its  birth?     To  China's  land 
We  turn.     The  muse  with  smile  confirms  our  thought. 
What  great  thought,  Persia,  found  with  thee  its  home? 


THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 


103 


Illimitable  time — Eternity. 
From  this  Eternal  came  the  Pure  and  Good ; 
Of  light  the  being; — the  creative  word. 
The  essence  too  of  darkness  from  it  came ; 
And  light  and  darkness  ruled  the  universe, — 
And  hence  in  time's  dominion  deadly  strife. 
But  darkness  should  at  last  be  changed  to  light ; 
Creation's  strife  should  end,  and  all  be  peace. 

Philosophy  of  Egypt  claims  a  thought, 
Its  deity  the  source  of  life  and  light, 
And  principle  of  all  existences. 

Now  from  these  lands  our  way  we  quickly  turn, 
And  journey  onward  to  the  isles  of  Greece. 
What  contests  here,  O  soul!  thy  pow'rs  have  waged  ! 
What  glorious  vict'ries,  too,  were  here  achieved! 
Too  long  we  linger  here,  if  we  would  trace 
The  elements  of  darkness  and  of  light, 
Now  leading  thee  to  error,  now  to  truth. 
The  elements  of  darkness  passing  then, 
Some  elements  of  light  we  here  would  trace, 
For  thee  portending  brighter  mental  day. 
Three  names  upon  the  ancient  page  we  see; 
Immortal  names,  whose  glory  ne'er  shall  die. 
O  Socrates!  we  hail  thee  as  the  one 
Who  led  Philosophy  to  Truth's  own  land, 
Through  Wisdom's  and  through  Virtue's  holy  gates. 
O  Plato!  rev'rently  we  breathe  thy  name, 


I04   -  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

The  great  of  intellect,  the  high  of  soul, 
Who  taught  Philosophy  to  soar  above 
Material  changing  forms  of  time  and  space, 
And  rest  within  Ideas'  own  true  realm ; 
Ideas  changeless  as  their  Source  divine. 
And,  oh !  what  homage  do  we  render  thee, 
Thou  mighty  giant  in  the  world  of  thought ! 
And  not  till  thought  itself  shall  cease  to  be, 
Shall  Aristotle  find  oblivion's  shade. 
Much  truth  within,  Philosophy  here  found  ; 
Much  grandeur  in  ideas  Art  hath  wrought. 

We  fain  would  linger  on  thy  classic  shores, 
Thou  Heaven-gifted,  thou  beloved  Greece; 
But  fleeting  time  forbids  our  longer  stay. 

O  human  soul !  how  great,  how  high  thy  thought, 
Though  broke  the  links  uniting  thee  to  Heav'n  ! 
And  now  Jehovah's  eye  is  on  thee  turned, 
In  pity  for  thy  sad,  thy  lost  estate  ; 
And  God's  own  hand  shall  bind  those  broken  links 
And  claim  thee  once  again  the  child  of  Heav'n. 
And  yet  let  sorrow  mingle  with  thy  joy; 
For  thee,  redemption's  work  is  only  wrought 
Through  anguish  and  through  suffering  Divine. 
This  solemn  epoch  in  thy  history 
Thou  shalt,  O  soul !  within  thy  mem'ry  bear 
While  everlasting  ages  onward  roll. 

Philosophy  and  Art  shall  serve  thee  still, 


THE  HUMAN  SOUL.  •  105 

Made  nobler  through  the  influence  divine 
Religion's  presence  o'er  their  spirits  wields. 
The  muse  of  Hist'ry  drops  the  veil  of  time, 
And  in  the  past's  dim  land  we  roam  no  more, 
But  with  the  present  now  stand  face  to  face. 

O  human  soul !  thou  wondrous  work  divine, 
Born  later  than  the  spheres,  yet  shall  survive  them  all, 
The  light  of  eighteen  centuries  is  thine. 
The  holy  and  the  great  of  ev'ry  age, 
Their  voices  sounding  through  the  halls  of  time, 
To  action,  noble  action,  call  thee  now. 
The  High  and  Holy  One  who  rules  o'er  all, 
Who  unto  thee,  O  soul !  thy  being  gave, 
For  mighty,  glorious  work  hath  destined  thee. 
The  world  of  thought  all  round  about  thee  lies ; 
'Tis  bounded  only  by  infinity; 
Here  thou,  O  human  soul  !  mayst  ever  roam. 
Behold !  afar  beneath  the  bright  clear  Haze 
Of  Heav'n's  own  light,  a  lofty  temple  .-.tands. 
Speed  thitherward.  O  soul  !   thy  willing  way ; 
'Tis  Truth,  'tis  God's  own  priestess  meets  thee  there. 
Oh,  fear  not  thou  to  lay  upon  her  shrine 
All  that  thou  art,  and  all  thou  hast  to  give ; 
Immortal  glory  thy  reward  shall  be. 
And  mighty  is  the  work  her  cause  demands ; 
For  dark  contending  pow'rs  roam  o'er  the  earth, 
With  deadly  weapons  armed ;  though  oft  disguised 


I0<5  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

As  forms  of  light  their  evil  forms  conceal. 

Of  sordid  visage,  'mong  them  Mammon  stands. 

To  Christ's  own  cherished  one,  the  Church,  he  cries, 

"Fear  not  the  splendid  gifts  I  offer  thee: 

These  dazzling  gems,  these  goodly  pearls  receive ; 

They'll  but  new  lustre  to  thy  beauty  give." 

And  'mong  opposing  pow'rs  is  none  more  dark 

Than  Persecution,  of  dark,  hating  eye, 

Reheating  ceaselessly  his  raging  fires. 

And  false  Philosophy  obtrusive  seeks 

Bewild'ring  shades  upon  the  light  to  cast 

That  Truth's  own  ministers  disperse  around. 

Nor  are  there  wanting  base,  ignoble  pow'rs, 

O  noble  Art !  to  call  thee  them  to  aid ; 

Nor  here  vain  Pleasure's  flatt'ring  voice,  to  call 

To  earthly  joys  the  Heav'n-directed  soul. 

O  Zion's  Daughter  !  heed  not  Mammon's  voice; 

False  gems  and  pearls  are  those  he  offers  thee ; 

Receive  not,  then,  those  vain  though  dazzling  gems, 

But  Christ's  white  lilies  wreathe  around  thy  brow; 

Array  thyself  in  thine  own  bridal  robes, 

The  pure  white  bridal  robes  of  righteousness. 

A  regal  throne  awaits  thee ;  Christ  shall  come, 

And  at  His  right  hand  thou  shalt  sit  a  queen ; 

For  lo !  thy  Bridegroom  is  the  King  of  kings. 

Philosophy,  we  call  on  thee  to  guard 

Thy  sanctuaries  from  intruders  dark. 


THE  HUMAN  SOUL.  107 

Thy  work  is  holy,  and  thy  aims  are  high, 

And  high  and  holy  thy  reward  shall  be. 

O  noble  Art !  keep  heavenward  thine  eye ; 

Thy  work  is  noble,  noble  thy  reward. 

O  human  soul !  -on  Truth's  bright  holy  shrine 

Lay  all  thou  art,  and  all  thou  hast  to  give. 

Truth's  pow'rs  shall  be  triumphant  over  all: 

Triumphant  o'er  those  dark,  contending  pow'rs, 

Triumphant  o'er  the  peril  and  the  strife, 

And  o'er  the  flames  of  Persecution's  fires. 

The  past,  the  present,  call  on  thee  to  act. 

If  well  thy  work  is  done,  then  far  away, 

Beyond  the  uncongenial  climes  of  earth, 

Beyond  the  wondrous  heav'ns  that  o'er  thee  bend, 

A  glorious  future  waiteth  thee,  O  soul ! 

And  then  thy  spirit-pinions,  plumed  anew, 

Shall  sweep  with  pow'rs  sublime  the  sphere  of  thought; 

Thy  Father's  smile  shall  there  thy  sunlight  be, 

Thy  Saviour's  love  in  blessing  on  thee  rest; 

And  angel  friends  around  thee,  happy  soul, 

Shall  gently  clasp  affection's  golden  links. 

Thou  hadst  thy  past;  thou  hast  thy  present  now; 

And  thou  shalt  have  thy  future,  human  soul. 

O  past  and  present !  ye  are  wondrous  words : 
A  world  of  meaning  to  our  thoughts  ye  bring. 
Each  life  hath  had  its  past ;  its  present  feels ; 
Its  future,  yet  untried,  shall  feel  and  know. 


THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

>w 

OH,  solemn  is  the  ceaseless,  silent  flow 
Of  that  mysterious  deep, — the  sea  of  Time. 
Unfathomed  are  its  depths;  while  all  around 
Eternity's  far  shores  in  grandeur  rise. 

And  now,  where  gently  roll  the  placid  waves 
'Neath  morning's  twilight,  tremulous  and  pale, 
A  little  bark  lies  idle  on  the  shore. 
Now  in  the  holy  stillness  of  the  morn 
We  hear  the  rustling  of  seraphic  wings: 
More  tremulous  the  twilight  shadows  seem, 
And  tremulous  beneath  the  waters  flow. 

Beams  of  soft  light  now  the  shore  illume; 

Gleameth  the  bark  like  a  beauteous  pearl ; 

By  it  the  angel  of  life  doth  stand, 

White  wings  enfolding  a  fragile  form. 

Gazes  he  now  on  the  little  bark, 

Then  o'er  the  waters  so  vast  and  wide. 

Sadness  a  moment  is  o'er  his  soul. 

Soon  o'er  his  visage,  so  calm  and  bright, 

Smiles  of  ineffable  sweetness  beam. 

White  wings  how  tenderly  now  unfold, 

Io8 


THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 


109 


And  in  the  bark  is  the  frail  form  placed. 
Soon,  with  the  light  of  the  early  dawn 
Streaming  around  his  celestial  form, 
Angel  guide  enters  the  little  bark, 
Taking  the  oar  in  his  gentle  hand. 
Silently,  slowly,  beyond  the  shore, 
Out  on  the  fathomless  ocean  Time, 
Angel  and  child  by  the  bark  are  borne. 
Cloudless  the  heavens  that  o'er  them  bend ; 
O'er  the  calm  waters  that  round  them  glide 
Sunbeams  like  jewels  are  glist'ning  now. 
Onward,  still  onward,  the  bark  doth  glide  ; 
Shores  in  the  distance  are  lost  to  view; 
Higher  the  waters  around  it  roll ; 
Brighter  the  heavens  above  it  bend. 
LoJ  on  the  heavens,  in  lines  of  light, 
Imagery  wondrously  fair  is  traced  : 
Fountains,  and  shadowy  bow'rs,  and  groves, 
Palaces,  temples,  and  lofty  domes. 

Now  in  the  bark,  with  its  angel  guide, 
Childhood's  frail  form  we  behold  no  more : 
Youth  do  we  see,  with  his  beaming  eye 
Fixed  on  the  imagery  traced  afar. 
Glows  all  his  spirit  with  new-born  fires ; 
Quickly  he  turns  to  his  angel  guide : 
"  Tell  me,  O  angel !  if  thou  dost  know, 
What  are  those  forms  that  are  traced  on  high." 


IIO  THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

Answers  the  angel,  in  low,  deep  tones, 

"  'Tis  the  mirage  that  reflecteth  there 

Forms  in  the  islands  of  Hope  beyond. 

Soon  thou,  O  Youth  !  shalt  behold  those  isles 

Bathed  in  the  sunlight's  eternal  glow, 

Beautiful  realm  of  a  goddess  bright." 

Noble  and  high  is  the  soul  of  Youth ; 

Proud  is  the  light  in  his  flashing  eye ; 

Thus  does  he  speak  to  his  angel  guide  : 

"  Why,  gentle  angel,  so  long  thy  stay? 

Strong  is  my  spirit,  nor  asks  thine  aid ; 

O'er  these  bright  waves  let  me  guide  my  bark." 

Now,  with  admiring  yet  tearful  gaze 

Fixed  on  the  youth,  doth  the  angel  speak : 

"  Mariner  out  on  the  sea  of  Time, 

Bound  for  Eternity's  distant  shores, 

Take  thou  this  oar,  for  I  wing  my  flight 

Far  to  my  home  in  the  starry  spheres." 

Now  from  the  heavens  a  golden  cloud 

Over,  the  bark  like  a  light  descends ; 

Lo  !  then  the  angel,  with  wings  outspread, 

Floats  on  that  cloud  to  the  realms  above. 

Soon  then  the  youth,  with  his  eager  gaze 
Fixed  on  those  forms  the  mirage  hath  traced, 
Plunging  his  o'ar  in  the  dashing  tide, 
Hurries  his  bark  to  the  isles  of  Hope. 


THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

Now  he  has  come  to  those  sunny  isles ; 
By  him  a  radiant  being  stands; 
Heavenly  light  in  her  beaming  eye 
Telleth  at  once  her  celestial  birth ; 
And  in  melodious  tones  she  saith, 
"  Welcome,  O  Youth  !  to  the  isles  of  Hope. 
Moor  here  thy  bark  for  a  little  while ; 
Wander  with  me  o'er  this  lovely  realm. 
First,  then,  O  Youth  !  let  me  guide  thy  way 
Where  in  her  temple  Religion  waits, 
Pearl  without  price  unto  thee  to  give: 
Mayest  thou,  Youth,  this  fair  pearl  receive. 
Keep  it  forever,  if  thou  wouldst  reach 
City  of  Light  on  the  mount  of  God. 
Only  to  those  who  shall  bring  this  pearl 
Angels  will  open  its  golden  gates. 
Seest  thou  that  temple  with  lofty  dome? 
Wisdom  and  Truth  there  thy  coming  wait, 
Counsels  to  give  thee  to  guide  thy  way." 
Led  bv  the  goddess  of  Hope,  the  youth 
Bows  at  Religion's  most  holy  shrine, 
And  from  her  hand  he  receives  the  pearl ; 
And  in  the  temple  with  lofty  dome 
Counsels  from  Wisdom  and  Truth  receives, 
Wanders  by  fountains  of  pure  delight, 
Wanders  through  shadowy  groves  and  bowers. 
Then  he  unmoors  his  frail  bark  once  more, 


THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

Launching  again  on  the  sea  of  Time. 

By  him  the  goddess  of"  Hope  doth  stand ; 

And  in  her  hand  is  an  anchor  clasped. 

Speaks  she  again  in  melodious  tones, 

' '  Take  thou  this  anchor,  and  it,  O  Youth ! 

If  when  afar  from  these  happy  isles 

Storms  and  fierce  tempests  should  round  thee  rage, 

Token  of  safety  shall  be  to  thee. 

Oh  !  but  if  thou  by  the  isles  of  Fear 

Losest  this  anchor,  then  woe  to  thee  ! 

Near  these  there  lie,  and  with  wrecks  o'erstrewn, 

Rock-bound  and  dismal,  the  isles  Despair. 

And  if  from  Heaven  there  come  no  aid, 

Swiftly  then  on  to  those  dismal  isles 

Shall  thy  bark  sweep  on  that  foaming  surge, 

Till  on  those  rocks  it  shall  lie, — a  wreck." 

Now  in  the  bark  is  the  anchor  placed ; 

Onward  it  sweeps  o'er  the  dashing  waves. 

Now  far  away  from  those  happy  isles 
See  we  the  bark  by  the  tempests  driv'n; 
See  we  where  Youth  was  its  guide  before, 
Manhood,  with  firm  and  with  high  resolve. 
Earnest  his  eye  on  the  anchor  rests, 
Dark  grow  the  heavens ;  and  blackened  clouds, 
Bound  by  the  lightnings  with  fiery  chains, 
Frowningly  gaze  on  the  deep  below, 


THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

Rousing  to  anger  the  surging  waves ; 
Then,  like  a  watery  wall,  the  waves, 
Gathering  now  round  the  storm-worn  -bark, 
Break ;  and  the  lightning's  red  blaze  reveals, 
Dark'ning  and  gloomy,  the  isles  of  Fear. 
Gazes  the  mariner  on  its  shores; 
Darker  and  deeper  the  shadows  grow. 
Over  the  bark  do  the  billows  ride ; 
And  from  its  place  is  the  anchor  swept, 
Plunged  in  the  watery  depths  below. 
Now,  on  the  fierce  and  stormy  blast, 
Shrieks  from  the  mariner  wildly  float ; 
Feels  he,  as  swiftly  the  currents  roll, 
On  to  the  isles  of  Despair  he  drifts. 
Turns  he,  imploring,  his  eye  to  Heav'n. 
Part  the  black  clouds  that  above  him  bend ; 
Light  from  the  heavens  in  glory  beams. 
By  him  there  hovers  an  angel  form, 
Guardian  now,  and  his  guide  before. 
Thus  to  the  mariner  now  he  speaks: 
"  Still  do  not  fear,  though  thy  hope  be  lost ; 
Message  I  bring  from  the  realms  of  Faith : 
Soon  from  those  realms  shall  the  breezes  blow, 
Wafting  thee  far  from  these  dismal  isles." 
Spoke  thus  the  angel,  then  winged  his  flight. 
Quickly  the  winds  and  the  waves  are  stilled, 
10* 


II4  THE    VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

Pure  breezes  blow  from  the  realms  of  Faith, 
Wafting  the  bark  on  its  peaceful  way. 

Oh,  solemn  is  the  ceaseless,  silent  flow 

Of  this  mysterious  deep, — the  sea  of  Time. 

'Tis  twilight  now  upon  its  peaceful  waves; 

Yet  all  the  shadows  are  with  glory  tinged ; 

For  earthly  twilight  blends  with  heav'nly  day. 

And  now,  behold  !  within  the  beaten  bark, 

Old  Age,  with  furrowed  brow  and  silv'ry  hair. 

Upon  Eternity's  now  bright' ning  shores 

The  guardian  angel  doth  his  coming  wait. 

The  boat  is  moored  upon  the  heav'nly  strand ; 

And  once  again  the  guardian  angel  speaks: 

"O  mortal,  hast  thou  brought  the  priceless  pearl 

That  in  the  isles  of  Hope  to  thee  was  giv'n  ? 

If  so,  immortal,  then,  oh  !  follow  me, 

And  I  will  guide  thee  to  the  mount  of  God, 

Will  bring  thee  to  the  New  Jerusalem ; 

There  be  the  priceless  pearl  that  thou  hast  brought 

The  brightest  gem  in  thy  eternal  crown." 

There  comes  a  sound  like  rush  of  seraph  wings, 
Their  songs  of  welcome  chant  the  seraph  choirs. 
The  twilight  wanes.     Time's  shadows  all  are  lost 
Within  the  light  of  heav'n's  eternal  day. 


ALMA    MATER!    FARE    THEE    WELL. 

To  meetings  on  this  earth,  a  parting  must  be, 
And  solemn  and  sacred  our  parting  from  thee, 
Thy  walls,  Alma  Mater,  so  long  were  our  home, 
So  oft  have  we  gathered  beneath  thy  loved  dome  ; 

So  often  thy  voice,  with  its  clear  ringing  tone, 
Hath  called  us  to  thee  in  the  days  that  are  flown  ; — 
While  Mem'ry  shall  cherish  with  care  and  delight 
Her  treasures  most  noble,  or  holy  or  bright. 

She'll  cherish  thee  sacredly,  tenderly,  long; 

Yes,  cherish  thee  still,  when  the  words  of  our  song 

Forgotten  may  be,  and  our  spirit  its  flight 

Hath  winged  to  the  land  of  the  true  and  the  bright. 

Thy  walls,  Alma  Mater,  may  crumble  away, 
The  love  that  we  cherish  thee  cannot  decay  ; 
For  time  shall  but  brighten  remembrance  of  thee, 
And  through  fleeting  years  thou  but  dearer  shalt  be. 

By  light  o'er  the  days  of  our  girlhood  thou'st  thrown, 
In  womanhood* s  years  be  thy  influence  known; 
Now  while  o'er  our  souls  rests  this  sad  holy  spell, 
We  tenderly,  tearfully,  bid  thee  farewell. 


CRUCE   AND    CORONA. 

'Tis  night  upon  the  sea;  the  heav'ns  are  black; 

And  storms  and  whirlwinds  sweep  the  foaming  deep ; 

And  ever  and  anon,  electric  light 

Terrific  splendor  flashes  on  the  scene, 

Revealing  by  its  bright  and  fearful  gleam 

A  noble  vessel  wrestling  with  the  storm. 

And  wilder  round  it  do  the  whirlwinds  sweep, 

And  higher  round  it  do  the  billows  roll, 

Until  at  last  the  tempests  dash  the  ship 

Their  yielding  prey  upon  the  wreck-strewn  reef. 

Then  'midst  the  din  of  elements  arise 
The  cries  of  human  anguish,  while  despair 
Like  clouds  of  darkness  gathers  round  each  soul, 
And  hope  its  starlight  quenches  in  the  gloom. 

Each  pow'r  that  sways  the  empire  of  the  soul 
Grows  still  with  terror, — all  save  Memory, 
Who  to  and  fro,  on  time's  fast-dark' ning  shores, 
Walks  solitary  by  the  sea  of  death. 

Amid  this  band  of  hope-bereaven  ones 
A  mother  clasps  in  agony  her  child  ; 
(116) 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


117 


But  in  one  moment  of  her  anguish  keen 

Rush  visions  of  the  past  upon  her  soul. 

The  hopes,  the  fears,  the  joys,  of  buried  years ; 

The  care  Divine  on  all  her  life  bestowed. 

Faith's  star  dispels  the  clouds  of  dark  despair. 

Then  in  the  mighty  rush  of  roaring  waves, 

The  thunders'  awful  and  death-threat' ning  sound, 

She  hears  the  footsteps  of  her  Father-God, 

And  calmly,  quietly  as  little  child 

Would  seat  itself  upon  some  grassy  knoll 

To  watch  its  father's  labors,  so  doth  she 

Sit  down  upon  that  tempest-beaten  reef, 

Her  little  one  still  cradled  in  her  arms, 

In  childhood's  ill-unconscious  peaceful  rest. 

Broad  sheets  of  lightning  spread  across  the  heav'ns, 

And  by  its  light  a  cavern  she  beholds 

Within  a  cliff  that  towers  overhead. 

A  Heav'n-sent  thought  comes  quickly  to  her  soul; 

She  bows  her  head  in  pray'r,  and,  rising  now, 

Bends  earnest  gaze  upon  her  sleeping  child; 

Then,  reaching  high,  she  lays  it  in  the  cave. 

She  may  not  come  there,  for  no  human  feet, 

Amid  the  darkness  of  tempestuous  night, 

Can  pass  the  rocky  paths  that  thither  lead  ; 

And,  praying  still,  she  stands  upon  the  reef. 


8  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Still  wildly  on  the  foaming  billows  dash, 
And  higher  round  the  reef  each  moment  roll, 
Some  mortal  sweeping  to  the  depths  beneath. 
With  calm  sublime  the  mother  meets  her  fate. 
The  darkness  of  the  hour  just  ere  the  dawn 
Broods  o'er  the  reef;  no  human  form  is  there. 
'Tis  morn  upon  the  sea.     With  sails  unfurled 
To  gentle  breezes,  o'er  the  azure  waves 
Majesticly  a  stately  vessel  glides. 
A  piteous  cry  floats  o'er  the  heaving  waves, 
And  startles  ev'ry  soul  within  the  ship, 
A  wailing  cry  that  vibrates  on  the  heart 
With  pow'r  as  can  no  sound  but  human  voice. 
The  ship  moves  on  ;  and  soon  before  the  view 
There  tow'rs  a  cliff  high  o'er  a  wreck-strewn  reef. 
A  boat  is  lowered  from  the  vessel's  side, 
Two  sailors  brave  row  swiftly  to  the  reef, 
In  silence  tread  among  the  wrecks,  and  come 
Where  still  within  its  cavern  cradle  lies 
The  little  one  that  in  the  last  night's  storm 
The  mother  left  in  trembling  hope  and  trust. 

Upon  the  child  the  wond'ring  sailors  gaze, 
And  wonder  in  the  child's  soul  stills  her  cries. 
But  wonder  gives  to  disappointment  place, 
As  suddenly  to  consciousness  there  comes 
The  mem'ry  of  her  mother.     From  the  cave 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  119 

The  sailors  lift  the  sobbing  child,  and  hence 
In  silence  bear  her  to  the  waiting  boat, 
That  glides  to  meet  the  vessel  far  away. 

'Tis  sunset's  hour;  and  grand  old  "ocean  rolls 
Its  gold-tinged  billows  up  the  em'rald  steeps, 
The  moss-grown  rocks  that  circle  in  their  strength 
A  beauteous  isle ;  though  on  one  side  the  rocks 
Complete  above  their  circle  by  an  arch, 
Thus  giving  entrance  to  the  waves  below, 
That  rolling  on  in  gentler  motion  flow, 
A  sea-born  river,  'tween  the  verdant  slopes 
That  lie  on  either  side.     The  stately  ship, 
Returned  from  voyaging  the  distant  main, 
Now  furls  its  sails,  and  anchors  in  the  haven. 

A  throng  of  human  beings  press  the  shore, 

And  joyful  greetings  wait  the  vessel's  crew, 

Who  hasten  from  the  ship.     And  now  at  last 

The  ship's  commander,  leading  by  the  hand 

The  child  they  rescued  from  the  wreck-strewn  reef, 

Steps  on  the  land ;  and,  greetings  interchanged, 

Speaks  thus  he  to  the  throng  which  gathers  round  : 

"  My  friends,  I  bring  to  your  most  lovely  isle 

A  little  stranger.     On  a  distant  reef 

Some  fragments  of  a  shattered  vessel  lie, — 

We  doubt  not,  stranded  there  in  last  night's  storm; 


120 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


And  none  survive  to  tell  the  fearful  tale 
Of  those  who  perished,  nor  what  hand  had  placed 
Within  a  cave,  deep  in  o'erhanging  rocks, 
Above  the  water's  reach,  this  little  child, 
Who  yet,  it  seems,  hath  only  learned  to  lisp 
The  name  of  'mother,'  and  her  own,  'Cruce.' 
Oh,  well,  my  friends,  ye  know  my  only  home 
Is  on  the  deep.     But  who  of  ye  that  dwell 
Upon  this  island  fair  will  welcome  home 
The  stranger  child?     Whoe'er  thou  be,  O  friend  ! 
I  pray  that  thou  mayst  in  her  presence  find 
The  blessing  of  an  angel  unaware." 

The  eyes  of  all  are  fixed  in  wond'ring  gaze 

Upon  the  child,  whom  now  the  speaker  lifts 

Upon  a  moss-grown  rock.     Around  her  brow 

The  light  of  sunset  like  a  halo  rests; 

Her  locks,  as  dark  as  plumes  of  raven,  glow 

With  wondrous  luster  in  the  setting  beams. 

With  eyes  cast  down  a  moment  thus  she  stands, 

Then,  slowly  raising  them,  her  gaze  is  caught 

By  brilliant  tinted  clouds  that  glorify 

The  dim  horizon's  verge.     Now  on  the  throng 

She  looks  with  timid,  half-averted  eyes ; 

Yet  in  the  transient  glance  from  those  dark  depths 

A  high,  mysterious  expression  comes, 

That  tells  of  something  in  the  childish  soul 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  I2i 

That  scarce  three  earthly  years  hath  sojourned  here, 
Which  touches  ev'ry  soul  with  interest 
More  sad,  more  tender  e'en,  than  that  called  forth 
By  what  they  know  already  of  her  fate. 
The  little  stranger  now,  as  if  her  soul 
Had  felt  the  sympathy  of  those  around, 
Turns  on  them  full  her  deep  and  pensive  gaze. 
It  seems  as  through  her  eyes  a  spirit  gazed 
Whose  being  all  had  passed  amid  the  shades 
Of  sorrow's  land;  yet  in  her  glance  is  blent 
With  that  mysterious  sadness,  other  look, 
Prophetic,  high,  that  seems  to  tell  of  pow'r 
To  triumph  o'er  all  sorrow  at  the  last. 

Now  from  the  silent  throng  advancing  comes 
A  man,  who  stands  beside  the  moss-grown  rock; 
And  thus  he  to  the  ship's  commander  speaks: 
"This  morn,  O  friend!  beheld  the  island  turf 
Placed  o'er  the  coffin  of  my  little  child. 
This  little  stranger  to  my  lonely  home 
I  welcome.     There  a  mother  she  will  find; 
And  little  sister  in  the  lost  one's  place 
Shall  be  the  stranger  to  my  only  child. 

"Cruce,  my  little  one,  wilt  go  with  me?" 
Two  little  outreached  hands  are  his  reply. 
He  takes  her  in  his  arms,  and  to  his  home 


I22  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

He  bears  her  through  the  deep'ning  twilight  shades. 

Within  the  dwelling  all  is  hushed  and  still; 

Through  all  bereavement's  presence  seems  to  breathe. 

He  enters  silently,  and  soon  to  her 

The  promised  mother  tells  the  story  sad, 

The  shipwreck  on  the  reef  in  ocean  storm, 

And  how  within  the  cavern  they  had  found 

The  sole  survivor.     To  the  stranger  child 

The  mother's  heart  a  mother's  welcome  gives; 

And  lips  maternal  sing  the  lullaby 

They  sang  the  little  one  who  sleeps  in  death. 

This  night  the  little  stranger's  ringlets  dark 

Float  o'er  the  pillow  where  few  nights  ago 

The  golden  tresses  of  the  lost  one  lay. 

Now  morning  dawns  upon  this  lovely  isle. 

The  sun's  ascending  beams  with  beauty  crown 

Its  groves,  its  moss-grown  rocks,  and  happy  homes. 

Beneath  a  vine-embowered  shade,  beside 

The  lovely  home  Cruce  should  call  her  own, 

Sits  he  who  bore  her  thither,  all  absorbed 

In  deep  reflective  thought.     The  entrance-way 

That  opens  to  that  bow'r  is  toward  the  east. 

Within  the  golden  light  that  inward  streams, 

A  childish  form  appears.     Her  broad  fair  brow, 

So  white  in  pureness  that  a  seraph's  lips 

Might  touch  with  holy  kiss  its  fair  expanse, 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

Betokens  wondrous  pow'r  of  intellect. 
Her  clear  blue  <eyes,  within  whose  placid  depths 
A  rare  celestial'  brightness  softly  gleams, 
Are  fixed  in  thoughtful  gaze  upon  the  man, 
Who  seems  not  yet  to  note  her  entrance  there, 
But  soon  as  thought  returns  to  outward  things 
Perceives  amid  the  shadows  of  the  leaves 
The  shadow  of  the  childish  form ;  and  then, 
Without  uplifted  glance,  he  gently  says, 
"Corona,  is  it  thou?     Come  hither,  child." 
And,  seated  by  her  father's  side,  the  child 
With  wonder  listens  to  the  story  sad, 
The  shipwreck  on  the  reef  in  ocean  storm, 
And  how  within  the  cavern  they  had  found 
The  sole  survivor.     For  on  yester  eve, 
When  he  the  tale  repeated,  she  had  slept, 
In  grief  and  weariness,  a  troubled  sleep. 
And  when  of  her  the  father  asks,  "Wilt  thou, 
Corona,  welcome  home  this  little  child?" 
She  answers  with  a  happy  smile,  and  joy 
Beams  radiantly  from  her  clear  blue  eyes. 
But  when  he  to  his  question  adding  says, 
"To  be  a  sister  in  the  lost  one's  place?" 
The  bright  smile  vanishes,  the  lips  compress, 
And  tears  beneath  the  drooping  eyelids  flow. 

Is  it  the  mem'ry  of  the  little  one 


123 


124 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


Awakened  by  that  one  word,  "sister,"  works 
This  quick  transition  ?  or  with  this  did  come 
A  fear  lest  in  a  void  within  her  soul 
A  stranger  rudely  ent'ring  should  intrude? 
Though  only  seven  summers  o'er  her  head 
Have  floated  in  their  beauty,  yet  hath  she 
Thoughts  far  more  high,  emotions  deeper  e'en 
Than  many  who  have  entered  death's  dark  vale, 
Their  hair  all  whitened  with  the  snows  of  age. 
Howe'er  it  be,  the  father  questions  not, 
But,  rising,  only  says,  "  Corona,  come." 

Before  an  open  window,  where  the  light 
Through  vines  of  ho'neysuckle  trembling  beams, 
Cruce  is  standing.     On  her  clasping  hands 
Her  little  head  is  leaned.     From  window-vines 
By  morning's  breezes  dropped,  the  blossoms  red 
Lie  'mong  her  ringlets  black.     Her  large  dark  eyes 
Are  gazing  in  the  deep-blue  sky  beyond. 

Corona  and  her  father  enter  there, 

And  gaze  in  silence  on  the  stranger  child. 

Some  moments  pass,  and  then  she  turns  her  head  ; 

Her  sad  eyes,  shining  with  a  loving  light, 

Are  fixed  upon  the  father ;  and  he  comes 

And  lays  his  hand  in  blessing  on  her  head. 

Corona  comes, — and,  while  the  little  form 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


I25 


Her  arms  entwine,  in  rev' rent  tones  she  says, 
"  My  little  sister  God  hath  sent  to  me." 


II. 


'Tis  morn  again  upon  this  lovely  isle; 

And  years  have  passed  since  'neath  that  bow'r  of  vines 

Corona  heard  the  story  of  Cruce. 

Corona  now  is  seated  in  that  bow'r, 

Her  childhood  flown,  in  youth's  bright,  lovely  dawn ; 

The  rare  celestial  light  within  her  eyes 

Hath  deepened,  brightened.     Now  her  gaze  is  bent 

Upon  a  volume  that  before  her  lies. 

Beside  Corona  stands  an  aged  man. 
With  thoughtful  aspect  on  her  doth  he  gaze, 
Absorbed  in  meditation.     Now  and  then 
The  girl  looks  up  and  interrupts  his  thought 
By  questioning  upon  the  volume's  thought. 
Sometimes  his  answers  quickly  come ;  and  long 
On  subjects  of  high  import  his  discourse. 

Whene'er  Corona's  question  doth  relate 
To  aught  that  doth  concern  the  human  soul, 
Its  workings,  destiny,  or  duties  high 
To  God  above  and  to  its  fellow-souls, 
There  comes  a  light  within  the  old  man's  eyes 
ii* 


I26  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

Like  that  of  inspiration  ;  and  his  soul 

Soars  upward  into  realms  of  thought  where  oft 

His  soul  hath  traversed  in  life's  bygone  years. 

Cruce  is  seated  too  within  the^bow'r; 
And  when  Corona  thus  her  questions  asks, 
And  thus  the  old  man  unto  them  replies, 
The  volume  in  her  hand  is  closed ;  her  eyes 
With  brighter  luster  glow;  and  o'er  them  oft 
The  shadow  of  mysterious  sadness  comes, 
That  in  her  childhood's  now  fast-fleeting  days, 
When  happy  home  and  kindly  hearts  are  hers, 
Is  still  the  same,  unless  still  deeper  grown, 
As  that  which  touched  the  chords  of  sympathy 
In  hearts  of  those  who  thronged  the  island  shore 
When  she  a  stranger  to  that  island  came. 

This  aged  man  upon  this  island  fair 

Hath  dwelt  for  many  years.     But  whence  he  came, 

Or  wherefore  thither,  few  that  know  or  ask. 

He  dwells  alone,  within  a  little  cot 

Among  majestic  steeps  of  moss-grown  rocks. 

In  solitude  his  life  hath  mostly  passed  ; 

But  there  is  not  a  home  upon  this  isle 

Where  sorrow  deep  or  some  great  joy  hath  come, 

But  there  he  comes  to  weep  with  those  who  weep 

Or  joy  in  others'  joy. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

And  thus  it  was, 

When  death's  dark  shadow  fell  upon  his  home, 
Corona's  father  saw  the  old  man  stand 
Beside  the  coffin  of  his  little  child 
And  offer  up  this  prayer  .•• 

"O  Father!  Thou 

The  spirit  gem  hast  from  the  casket  borne. 
O  grant  that  he  to  whom  this  gem  was  giv'n 
Through  faith's  clear  vision  may  behold  it  shine 
Within  thy  diadem,  O  Saviour  crowned  ! 
And,  by  its  bright  endearing  luster  drawn, 
May  come  and  bow  at  Calv'ry's  holy  shrine, 
And  own  thy  saving  power,  O  Lamb  of  God  !" 

Long  afterward  within  that  father's  soul 

A  still  small  voice  had  uttered  o'er  and  o'er, 

"And  own  thy  saving  pow'r,  O  Lamb  of  God  !" 

For  though  this  man  his  great  Creator  God 

Acknowledged  both  in  matter  and  in  mind, 

And  though  his  soul  in  adoration  bowed 

To  all  that's  beautiful  and  good  and  true, 

To  wisdom,  virtue,  ev'ry  noble  pow'r, 

Yet  had  not  claimed  he  as  his  own  the  Friend 

Above  all  other  friends — the  Saviour  God. 

Corona  from  her  early  years  was  taught 
The  worship  of  the  beautiful.     Her  soul 


127 


I28  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Transfused  with  all  the  glory  of  its  pow'r, 
Emotion,  thought  had  yielded  to  its  sway. 
The  one  great  worship  too  her  soul  had  learned  : 
In  holy  accents  from  her  mother's  lips, 
The  story  of  Redemption  she  had  heard  ; 
And  oft  herself  perused  the  sacred  page. 

In  childhood's  holy  trust  her  soul  she  gave 
To  Christ  her  Saviour ;  and  it  ever  was 
That  through  the  beautiful  she  worshiped  God. 
But  still  her  father  through  Redemption's  way, 
The  soul's  true  living  way,  approached  not  God ; 
Until  the  still  small  voice  within  his  soul, 
That  uttered  o'er  and  o'er  the  old  man's  prayer, 
Awakened  all  the  energies  of  thought, 
And  unbelief's  foundations  trembling  shook. 
A  pow'r  more  mighty  than  the  earthquake's  shock 
Seemed  rending  all  his  soul;  and  then  to  Christ, 
In  anguish  and  humility,  he  cried, 
And  light,  and  peace,  and  pardon  answ'ring  came. 

The  aged  man  is  versed  in  wondrous  lore 

Of  bygone  times.     The  pathway  he  has  traced 

Philosophy  has  trod  descending  down 

The  course  of  ages ;  and  great  truths,  unveiled 

By  science,  history,  to  him  are  known. 

The  three  great  sources  of  divinest  lore 

To  man  e'er  given,  most  his  soul  doth  prize, — 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  129 

The  Book  of  Revelation,  nature's  page, 
The  wondrous  volume  of  the  human  soul. 
This  aged  man  philosopher  is  called, 
And  rev'rend  friend,  by  most  upon  this  isle. 

Corona's  father  by  his  earnest  wish 
Had  won  the  old  man  from  his  solitude, 
From  day  to  day  instruction  to  impart 
To  these  young  girls,  Corona  and  Cruce. 
And  thus  it  is,  this  lovely  morn  doth  find 
These  three  within  the  shadow  of  the  bow'r. 

The  years  revolve.     It  is  the  sunset  hour; 
The  quiet  sunset  of  a  Sabbath  eve. 
Again  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  bow'r 
These  three  are  met. 

The  aged  teacher  clasps 
The  sacred  volume  ;  and  the  dying  gleams 
Of  sunset  o'er  the  hallowed  pages  rest. 
In  clear  deep  tones,  of  Jesus  doth  he  read 
When,  passing  by,  the  blind  one  He  did  heal. 

And  now,  the  volume  closing,  o'er  his  hand 
His  hoary  head  he  bows  in  solemn  thought. 
With  reverence  his  pupils  on  him  gaze. 
A  moment  o'er  Cruce's  dark  pensive  eye 
The  shadow  of  mysterious  sadness  comes, 


0  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

But  passes  soon  before  the  bright' ning  gleam 
Prophetic  of  a  high  triumphant  pow'r. 

Upon  Corona  seems  to  rest  the  spell 
Of  some  celestial  vision  ;  and  her  eyes 
Turn  heavenward  with  inspiration  bright. 

And  when  at  last  the  aged  one  looks  up, 

His  eyes  are  bright  with  hope  that  shines  through  tears, 

And  thus  he  to  his  pupils  now  doth  speak : 

"  My  children,  I  was  thinking  of  the  words 
Which  Jesus  spoke  to  His  disciples  here, 
When  of  Himself  He  said  that  while  'twas  day 
The  work  of  Him  that  sent  Him  He  must  work. 

1  thought,  too,  of  that  night  of  which  He  speaks, 
The  night  that  cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 

I  know  to  me  that  night  is  coming  soon : 

The  record  of  my  life  is  almost  closed ; 

And  whether  I  my  life-work  well  have  wrought, 

He  knoweth  only  Who  all  things  doth  know. 

But  in  my  soul  there  is  a  holy  faith 

That  I  shall  stand  at  last  at  God's  right  hand." 

The  old  man  ceases.      And  then  Corona  saith, 
"O  rev' rend  friend  !  the  lessons  thou  hast  taught 
Have  left  an  impress  for  eternity. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  131 

How  often  hast  thou  told  us  that  to  all 
God  sends  a  mission ! 

In  my  childhood  days 

The  mission  God  hath  sent  me  was  revealed ; 
And  now,  when  o'er  me  dawns  the  golden  light 
Of  womanhood's  bright  years,  to  thee  I  tell 
The  work  to  which  my  soul  and  life  are  giv'n. 
And  when  the  vision  I  to  thee  repeat 
That  yesternight  to  my  glad  spirit  came, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  understand  it  all. 

Along  a  lonely  narrow  path  I  trod, 
Shut  in  from  vision  of  the  outer  world 
By  lofty  trees  with  overarching  boughs; 
But  whither  led  this  pathway  knew  I  not, 
Till  all  at  once  before  my  vision  rose 
High  mountain  steeps.     And  on  one  summit  stood 
A  lofty  temple;  and  at  my  approach 
Upon  its  dome  a  beauteous  form  appeared, 
Unfurled  a  gleaming  banner.     On  its  folds 
Were  traced,  in  golden  letters,  'Genius,  hail!' 
Then  by  my  side  another  form  appeared, 
And  whispered  gently,  '  I  will  be  thy  guide.' 
And  we,  those  mountain  steeps  ascending  long, 
At  length  before  the  temple's  entrance  stood, 
And,  passing  through  long  corridors  and  aisles, 
Beheld  a  throng  of  those  whose  honored  names 


2  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Are  sacred  in  the  memories  of  earth. 
Musicians,  sculptors,  poets  by  me  passed 
In  glorious  array. 

My  guide  moved  on  ; 

And,  ent'ring  what  an  inner  temple  seemed, 
I  saw  a  golden  altar  rainbow-crowned; 
Beside  it  knelt  the  priestess  of  that  art 
Whose  gifted  children  on  those  walls  had  traced, 
In  hues  immortal,  their  immortal  thoughts. 

My  guide  withdrew.     And  from  the  altar  rose 
The  priestess  from  her  ministries,  and  gazed 
Upon  me  with  her  holy  eyes;  then  said, 
'O  child  of  genius,  welcome!  thou  art  come 
To  Art's  high  temple,  and  before  the  shrine 
Of  painting,  glorious  art. 

My  child,  receive 

The  blessing  of  its  priestess.     Go  thy  way ; 
With  holy  ardor  be  thy  labor  wrought; 
A  bright  reward  awaits  thee:   Win  thy  crown.'  ' 

The  vision  thus  repeated,  silence  comes; 
And  not  a  sound  is  heard  within  the  bow'r, 
Save  rustling  of  the  vine-leaves  in  the  breeze. 
Corona's  gaze  is  on  the  old  man  bent, 
As  if  his  words  awaiting;  and  his  eyes 
Are  fixed  on  her  with  look  of  calm,  deep  joy. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


133 


He  only  says,  "Corona,  unto  thee 

I  give  thy  teacher's  blessing,  and  repeat 

The  priestess'  words  at  parting:  'Win  thy  crown." ' 

Then,  turning  to  Cruce,  he  says,  "My  child, 
'I  know  thou  too  hast  of  thy  life-work  thought; 
Oh,  ere  my  spirit  wings  its  flight  from  earth, 
Let  me  my  blessing  on  thee  too  bestow." 

And  thus  she  answers:  "O  my  friend  revered! 

No  happy  vision  hath  to  me  revealed 

My  destiny,  my  life-work.     Oh,  I  feel 

As  if  with  pen  of  iron  on  my  soul 

These  words  are  deeply  graven:  '  Bear  thy  cross.'  " 

"  I  know  it,  O  my  child  !"  the  old  man  cries; 
"  I  knew  it  when  upon  the  moss-grown  rock 
A  little  child  I  saw  thee  stand  and  gaze 
With  such  mysterious  sadness  on  the  throng." 

Cruce  continues:   "Where  the  Ganges  rolls 

Its  dark  life-sacrificing  tide,  I  go 

To  bear  the  holy  light  of  Heaven's  truth." 

The  teacher  answers  not,  but  only  looks 

On  her  with  eyes  in  which  his  blessing  shines 

With  gentle  pity  mingled. 

Twilight  shades 
Are  dark' n ing  round ;  and  friend  and  pupils  part. 


134 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


Again  it  is  the  quiet  Sabbath  ev'n. 

Corona  and  Cruce  within  the  bow'r 

Have  waited  for  their  aged  teacher  long. 

He  comes  not ;  though  a  Sabbath's  sunset  light 

In  beauty  resting  on  this  lovely  isle 

Corona  and  Cruce  shall  see  no  more ; 

For  when  a  few  more  morning  dawns  shall  come, 

The  mission -ship  shall  bear  them  far  away, 

Cruce  to  heathen  lands ;  in  Italy, 

The  shrine  of  Art,  Corona's  home  shall  be. 

Now,  weary  with  their  waiting,  from  the  bow'r 

They  wend  their  way  along  the  circling  ridge 

Of  moss-grown  rocks,  and  reach  the  old  man's  cot. 

But  not  in  solitude,  as  was  his  wont, 

With  welcome  smile  their  teacher  meets  them  there ; 

For  friends  with  pallid  faces  at  the  door 

The  pupils  meet ;  in  pitying  silence  gazed 

Upon  them  ;  for  they  know  the  sacred  tie 

That  to  his  pupils  binds  the  teacher's  soul. 

They  enter.     By  a  window,  where  the  light 
Of  sunset's  dying  gleams  with  glory  crown 
His  head  so  hoary,  sits  the  aged  man, 
A  holy  rapture  resting  on  his  brow, 
And  in  his  eye  the  far-beholding  light 
That  comes  to  many  in  the  dying  hour; 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  135 

And  one  look  to  Corona  and  Cruce 
Reveals  the  presence  of  the  angel  Death. 

The  dying  one  his  look  upon  them  casts 
Of  recognition  ;  and  he  breathes  a  pray'r: 

"  O  Saviour  !  Thou  who  once  upon  this  earth 
Didst  walk  with  thy  disciples,  Thou  dost  know 
The  holy  tie  which  now  by  death  is  rent. 
As  Thou  didst  love  thine  own,  so  I  have  loved 
These  young  disciples ;  and  for  them  I  pray, 
As  Thou  didst  pray  for  thine. 

O  Father !  keep 

Those  whom  to  me  Thou'st  giv'n,  through  thy  name  ; 
And  grant  to  her  who  goes  to  minister 
Within  the  temple  of  the  beautiful, 
A  clear  perception  of  thy  will  divine. 
In  her  remembrance  may  she  ever  keep 
This  truth :  that  through  the  cross  the  crown  is  won. 

To  her  who  sorrow  as  her  birthright  holds, 
Oh,  when  in  far-off  heathen  lands  she  dwells, 
Grant  her  thy  all-sustaining  conq'ring  strength, 
And  while  she  nobly  bears  her  earthly  cross, 
May  she  behold  the  crown  that  shines  above." 

His  dying  eyes  upon  those  ones  for  whom 
His  spirit  thus  hath  breathed  a  parting  pray'r, 
A  benediction  beam,  then  softly  close. 


6  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

He  clasps  his  hands  in  holy  peace,  and  says, 
"For  so  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. ' ' 

The  Sabbath  twilight  veils  the  sacred  scene 
Of  solemn  tenderness  and  holy  grief. 

The  starry  spheres,  that  look  on  earth  to-night 

With  that  same  aspect  which  of  old  they  wore, 

Ere  our  young  earth  had  known  of  grief  or  death, 

By  influence  mysterious  seem  to  draw 

The  spirits  of  Corona  and  Cruce, 

Who  lift  unconsciously  their  tearful  gaze 

To  heav'n's  bright  concave,  while  they  wend  their 

way — 
Each  sorrow's  silence  keeping — to  their  home. 

III. 

'Tis  sunset  on  the  isle;  and  in  its  hav'n 

The  mission-ship,  arriving,  anchors  now. 

The  stranger  missionaries  on  the  shore 

Are  welcomed  ;  for  their  holy  work  invites 

The  kind  regards  which  Christian  hearts  should  show 

To  Christ's  ambassadors. 

In  prime  of  life 

The  most  appear,  a  zealous  youthful  band. 
Now  comes  on  shore  the  leader  of  this  band, 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


137 


A  man  of  noble  bearing,  on  whose  brow 

Long,  earnest  thought  hath  left  its  traces  deep, 

With  gray  his  dark  locks  silvered  lightly  o'er. 

Corona's  father  greets  him.     To  his  words 

Of  courteous  inquiry,  then  replies 

Are  by  the  stranger  giv'n.     To  his  home 

The  missionary  wends  with  him  his  way. 

They  enter  at  the  nightfall.     Lights  within 

The  rooms  illumine.     To  the  stranger  guest 

Corona's  mother  doth  her  welcome  give. 

When  hours  have  flown  in  Christian  converse  passed, 

She  saith,  "  I'll  bid  Corona  and  Cruce 

Come  join  our  number." 

Quickly  at  her  call 

They  enter;  and  the  father,  rising,  says, 
"  My  Christian  friend,  these  are  the  youthful  ones 
Who  on  the  morrow  in  thy  vessel  sail." 
With  loving  admiration  then  he  says, 
"This  one,  Corona,  who  at  Art's  fair  shrine 
To  worship  to  Italia's  land  doth  go. 
And  this  my  sad-eyed  lonely  one,  Cruce: 
Long  years  ago  a  noble  vessel  sailed 
At  eve  within  our  harbor,  bringing  her, 
A  little  one,  just  rescued  on  that  morn 
From  rocks  o'er  reef  all  strewn  with  ocean  wrecks. 
The  stranger  entertaining,  I  have  found 
The  presence  of  an  angel  unawares." 

12* 


8  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

These  words  are  said  in  deep  and  rev' rent  tones, 
While  on  Cruce  with  rev'rence  he  doth  gaze. 

The  stranger  seems  as  one  who  hears  him  not. 
When  first  the  father  spoke  the  name  "Cruce," 
And  she,  advancing,  'neath  the  lamplight  stood, 
The  missionary's  gaze  was  riveted 
On  her  as  though  a  vision  of  the  dead 
Re-entered  into  life  before  him  stood. 
He  gazes  still,  unconscious  of  all  else; 
And  o'er  his  soul  the  tides  of  mem'ry  surge; 
Across  these  surges  glide  the  specters  dim 
Of  griefs  long  buried  in  the  tomb  of  years. 
And  now,  while  intervening  years  are  lost, 
The  past  becomes  the  present.     Smiles  of  joy 
Are  on  his  lips,  and  peace  upon  his  brow. 
The  mem'ry  now  of  intervening  years 
Between  the  past  and  present  rushes  back ; 
Of  joy  bereft,  he  says,  "It  cannot  be  !" 

To  consciousness  returning,  now  his  thoughts 
Revert  unto  the  words  the  father  spoke : 
•  "Long  years  ago" — "a  vessel" — "bringing  her" — 
"From  rocks  o'er  reef  all  strewn  with  ocean  wrecks." 
And  then  he  says,  "  O  friend  !  long,  long  ago, 
When  first  I  bade  my  native  land  farewell, 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


139 


And  sailed  for  far-off  heathen  climes,  I  bore 
A  fair  companion  with  me  to  my  toils. 

A  few  years  passed,  and  'neath  that  burning  clime 

She  drooped  and  faded.     And  I  bade  her  go 

Across  the  ocean  to  her  childhood's  home, 

In  hope,  when  strength  and  bloom  of  health  returned, 

Upon  that  tropic  shore  to  meet  again. 

Then,  placing  in  her  arms  the  little  child 

Which  God  to  us  had  given,  in  the  ship 

I  saw  them  enter ;  watched  the  vessel  sail 

Beyond  my  anxious  vision.     Nevermore 

On  those  beloved  beings  did  I  gaze. 

She  sent  me  tidings  from  her  childhood's  home. 
A  message  came  to  me  that  o'er  the  seas 
They  had  embarked,  and  soon  our  mission  home 
Should  welcome  them.     But  ah  !  they  never  came. 
The  ship  which  bore  them  ne'er  was  heard  of  more. 

And  when  this  maiden  stood  before  my  gaze, 
Such  strange  resemblance  to  that  one  she  bore 
Whom  I  on  earth  shall  never  meet  again, 
With  such  o'erwhelming  sudden  pow'r  it  swept 
Across  my  mem'ry  waves,  past  years  seemed  naught; 
All  consciousness  absorbed  in  this  one  thought, 
That  I  beheld  my  lost,  lamented  one. 


I4o  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

The  rapture- waking  fantasy  is  fled. 

Yet  still  methinks  upon  the  maiden's  face 

I  trace  the  strange  resemblance.     Canst  thou  tell 

Aught  more  concerning  that  sad  fate  of  those 

By  ocean  storm  wrecked  on  the  far-off  deep, 

And  how  this  one  was  rescued  ?     Ah  !  methinks 

Thou  calledst  her  Cruce,  the  selfsame  name 

That  to  our  child  was  given.     Tell  me,  friend, 

What  more  thou  knowest,  and  who  named  her  thus. ' 

And  now  is  told  how  on  that  morning  calm 
The  sailors  heard  afar  the  wailing  cry, 
And,  coming  on  the  reef,  within  the  cave 
Beheld  the  little  child,  and  bore  her  hence. 

A  golden  circlet  round  her  neck  was  clasped, 
And  on  the  clasp  was  grav'n  her  name,  "  Cruce ;" 
The  name  the  little  one  herself  had  lisped. 

While  all  these  words  are  uttered,  stands  Cruce, 

A  calm  and  wondrous  light  within  her  eye, 

Like  that  perchance  with  which  the  prophets  gazed 

When  they  beheld  their  prophecies  fulfilled. 

And  when  the  mother  whispers  to  her  low, 

She  vanishes,  but  soon  to  reappear, 

The  little  golden  circlet  in  her  hand. 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  141 

The  missionary's  eye  is  on  it  fixed 
But  for  a  moment ;  then  upon  Cruce 
It  glances  recognition,  and  he  cries, 
' '  My  daughter,  O  my  daughter  ! ' ' 

Morning  dawns 

Upon  that  lovely  isle.     Farewells  are  said. 
The  spirit  of  Cruce  in  its  new  joy 
Seems  not  to  feel  the  burden  of  the  cross. 
The  parting  words  with  recollections  fraught, 
The  sacred  mem'ries  of  her  childhood  days, 
With  tender  sadness  said,  have  less  of  grief 
Than  "good-nights"  that  before  have  passed  her 
lips. 

Corona,  with  her  ardent  spirit  thrilled 
With  bright  anticipations,  feels  that  joy, 
However  deep  or  lofty  it  may  be, 
On  earth  with  sorrow  oft  walks  side  by  side. 

And  now  with  sails  unfurled  the  ship  moves  on, 
And  soon  the  island  fair  is  lost  to  view. 
Around  them  ocean  spreads  its  vast  domain, 
Whose  bound' ries  seem  the  far  horizon's  verge. 

Corona  and  Cruce  behold  the  sun 
Descend  beneath  the  waters,  with  a  mien 


142 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


Of  kingly  majesty,  the  cloudless  skies 
Resigning  to  the  reign  of  night's  fair  queen. 
With  regal  grace  ascending  in  the  east, 
She  glances  beauty  on  the  tranquil  waves ; 
Ere  long  attended  by  the  fleecy  clouds 
That  love  to  float  within  her  silv'ry  light. 

But  clouds  that  ventured  not  the  day-king's  path 

To  darken  with  their  presence,  fearing  not 

Fair  Luna's  gentler  scepter,  in  the  west 

Confront  her  with  their  huge  and  darkened  forms. 

But  while  above  her  hangs  a  silv'ry  cloud, 

Perchance  as  beautiful  as  angel's  wing, 

In  unveiled  splendor  on  those  clouds  she  looks. 

With  admiration  and  with  sorrow  moved, 

Within  the  depths  beneath,  repentant  tears 

Those  clouds  are  weeping ;    but  the  night-queen's 

smile, 

Bright  glancing  through  those  drops,  is  arching  now 
A  beauteous  rainbow  on  those  western  clouds, 
A  token  of  forgiveness. 

And  when  they 

Have  wept  away  their  darkness,  breezes  soft 
Shall  waft  them  till  they  join  her  fleecy  train. 

But  once  upon  the  ocean  comes  a  night 

When  neither  moon,  nor  stars,  nor  fleecy  clouds 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  143 

Appear  to  greet  the  gazers'  anxious  sight ; 
A  night  of  tempests  on  the  lonely  deep. 
Each  moment  dangers  new  throng  round  the  crew. 
At  last  the  ship,  long  tossed  upon  the  waves, 
Spurns  all  control  of  human  will  and  pow'r. 
All  useless  now,  the  sailors'  courage  fails ; 
The  ship's  commander,  confidence  all  lost, 
Stands  mute,  despairing,  gazing  on  the  crew. 

The  father  of  Cruce  to  Heaven  lifts 

A  pray'r ;  but  not  of  piteous  distress 

Or  anxious  fear ;  but  that  the  Mighty  One 

Who  holds  the  waters  in  his  hand  will  stay 

The  tempests,  if  his  glory  thus  be  wrought ; 

If  not,  from  raging  storms  receive  their  souls 

To  the  unruffled  calm  of  Heaven's  peace. 

The  pray'r  is  answered.    And  when  morning  dawns, 
The  sun  in  majesty  its  clear,  broad  beams 
Is  flashing  o'er  the  ocean's  tranquil  waves. 

All  hail !   Italia's  genius-haunted  land, 
Whose  skies  drop  inspiration ;  where  the  souls 
Of  great  departed  ones  still  live  and  glow 
In  their  ideas,  o'er  which  time  and  death 
Are  ever  pow'rless ;  and  which  still  do  speak 
Through  silent  marble  their  sublimity, 


I44  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

Through  lines  and  colors  rare  still  thrill  the  soul 
With  beauty's  holy  and  mysterious  pow'r. 

Yes,  hail !  Italia,  though  thy  fallen  Rome 
Hath  verified  the  great,  the  solemn  truth 
That  pow'r  and  strength  with  virtue  unallied 
Themselves  work  out  their  own  sad  overthrow. 
But  Art,  the  Heaven-born,  immortal  lives, 
And  while  Art  lives,  Italia  cannot  die. 

Receive,  O  Art !  this  worshiper  who  comes 
From  her  far  island  home  to  meet  thee  here ; 
And  may  the  light  of  hope  within  her  soul 
Grow  brighter  at  thy  presence,  while  she  hears 
By  thee  these  words  repeated,  "  Win  thy  crown.' 

O  gorgeous  land  of  India !  unto  thee, 
Upon  her  life-cross  leaning,  cometh  she, 
The  sad-eyed  one,  upon  the  Gospel  shrine 
Her  lovely  life  to  offer.     Fragile  she 
As  snowy  lily  of  the  island  dell. 
Blow  lightly  o'er  her,  O  ye  tropic  airs  ! 
And  waft  no  poison-vapors  on  your  wing. 
And  long,  O  India !  may  she  dwell  with  thee, 
To  bless  thy  children  with  her  ministries. 
Now  light  to  her  the  burden  of  the  cross, 
The  cross  her  birthright,  her  inheritance ; 
Her  youthful  spirit  leaning  on  the  strength 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


145 


Of  him  whose  long-lost  presence  now  restored 
With  joy  complete  her  spirit's  depths  doth  fill. 

O  Great  and  Holy  Father,  in  thy  care, 

Thy  kind,  all-pow'rful  care,  we  leave  this  one; 

And  through  her  may  thy  holy  will  be  done. 

IV. 

How  bright,  and  yet  how  softly,  falls  the  light 
Of  morn's  clear  beams  upon  those  palm-trees  tall, 
Whose  broad  green  leaves  hang  mute  and  motionless 
Within  the  breezeless  air  ! 

Beneath  their  shade 

The  missionary's  home.     Here  dwells  Cruce. 
Within  the  walls  where  first  her  infant  eyes 
Beheld  the  light  of  earth,  her  presence  now 
Creates  the  home-light.     Like  an  exiled  bird 
Regaining  after  lonely  weariness 
Its  native  place,  spreads  glad  its  flutt'ring  wings 
Or  folds  them  quietly  in  peace  and  rest, 
So  doth  the  maiden's  spirit  in  the  joy 
And  peace  of  her  new-found,  lost  native  home. 

Through  long,  bright  hours  of  golden  summer-time, 
Cruce  bends  over  volumes  strangely  writ ; 
For  through  their  native  language  must  the  light 
13 


,46  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Of  holy  truth  reach  darkened  souls  around. 
And  with  that  language  on  her  lips  at  last 
Her  ministries  begin. 


The  night  is  dark. 

The  rain  drops  heavily  from  palm-tree  boughs, 
And  drearily  against  the  window  beats, 
A  window  of  the  missionary's  home. 
Beside  it,  with  a  more  than  dreary  look 
Of  helpless  woe  within  her  eyes'  dark  depths, 
Cruce  is  watching  o'er  her  father's  face 
The  falling  of  death's  shadow  cold  and  pale. 

The  sad  hours  of  the  weary  night  are  past. 

Soft  breaking  through  the  mists  the  morning  dawns. 

Beside  the  open  grave  the  mourners  stand ; 

A  brother  missionary  o'er  the  grave 

Bends  tearfully,  and  lifts  his  voice  in  pray'r. 

Cruce  beside  her  father's  coffin  stands. 
She  sees  the  coffin,  sees  the  open  grave, 
She  hears  the  slow  and  solemn  tones  of  pray'r, 
She  sees,  she  hears,  but  realizes  not. 

While  o'er  her  father's  eyes  death's  shadow  fell, 
The  pow'r  by  which  her  spirit  chords  were  riv'n 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  14 

Had  sealed  the  soul-founts  both  of  hope  and  grief, 

In  icy  fetters  bound  emotion's  streams, 

And  at  one  blow  her  consciousness  struck  blind. 

Where  reason,  though  inactive,  keeps  its  throne, 
While  in  unconsciousness  the  soul  may  keep 
The  semblance  of  oblivion's  deep  trance, 
Then  fearfully  at  last  in  woe  there  comes 
The  waking  up  into  reality. 

'Tis  Sabbath  morn.     The  mission  chapel  bell 
Rings  out  its  peals,  deep,  clear,  upon  the  air; 
And  to  the  spirit  of  Cruce  they  come 
With  an  awak'ning  pow'r. 

How  oft  the  call 

To  worship  hath  her  father  answered !     Now, 
Alas  !  the  summons  are  for  him  no  more. 
And,  on  her  mem'ry  swiftly  rushing  now 
The  scenes  of  parting,  death,  and  burial, 
And  realizing  fearfully  her  loss, 
A  cold,  cold  weight  upon  her  spirit  falls ; 
The  weight  of  this  one  dreary,  dreary  thought, — 
In  life's  vast  wilderness,  all,  all  alone. 

The  Mighty  One  who  sits  at  God's  right  hand, 
Who  reigned  with  Him  in  glory  ere  this  world 
Responsive  to  creation's  mandate  came, 
Divinely  human,  once  upon  this  earth 
Within  Gethsemane  in  anguish  knelt. 


I48  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

Oh  !  never  o'er  the  narrow  death-stream  yet 
Hath  passed  a  Christian  soul  but  on  this  earth 
Hath  known  in  anguish  its  Gethsemane. 

O  Saviour  !  O  Divinely  human  !  come 
And  hover  near  this  soul,  who  sorrows  now 
Within  the  shades  of  her  Gethsemane. 

From  earthly  pain  oft  cometh  heav'nly  strength  ; 
Who  wait  upon  the  Lord  their  strength  renew. 

Cruce  amid  her  mission  pupils  sits ; 
Within  her  eyes'  dark  depths  the  light  of  peace 
Dispels  the  shade  of  sadness,  and  the  gleam 
Of  high  triumphant  pow'r  is  shining  there. 

Her  pupils  on  her  gaze  with  wond'ring  awe. 
She  speaks  to  them  of  immortality ; 
And  while  she  speaks,  the  strength  and  holy  hope 
That  from  her  eyes  beam  forth  in  heav'nly  pow'r 
Impress  for  aye  the  lesson  on  their  souls. 

And  when  the  tidings  of  her  grief  and  loss 
Are  borne  afar  to  Italy,  there  come, 
With  words  of  touching  sadness,  words  of  hope, 
Of  holy  strength  and  trust  that  ne'er  shall  fail. 

And  answering  these  tidings  soon  there  comes 
A  beauteous  picture  from  Corona's  hand. 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


149 


On  barren  ground  uprising,  stands  a  cross, 

By  storm  and  tempest  marred  and  light' ning's  fire. 

Its  surface  only  bears  defacing  marks  ; 

For  strong  beneath  a  firm  unyielding  rock 

It  stands,  defying  all  the  storms  of  time. 

And  round  and  o'er  its  rough  marred  surface  twine 

Frail  vines,  with  lovely  blossoms,  buds,  and  leaves, 

And  here  and  there,  by  some  rough  wind  unclasped, 

Hang  tendrils  drooping.     Buds  that  once  were  fair 

Bend  dark  and  blighted.     Green  stems  here    and 

there, 

Dissevered  from  their  blossoms,  lonely  hang. 
And  o'er  this  cross,  all  gold  and  silver  tinged, 
Are  clouds  of  wondrous  glory.     Angel  hands 
Reach  softly  from  them,  twining  round  this  cross 
Immortal  wreaths  of  ever-blooming  flow'rs, 
That  those  whose  saddened  eyes  beheld  with  grief 
The  blighting  of  the  buds  of  hope,  the  fall 
Untimely  of  joy's  blossoms  bright  and  fair, 
May  lift  above  their  tearful  eyes  and  see 
The  angel-given  flowers,  and  weep  no  more. 

But,  oh  !  more  happy  still,  above  the  cross, 
And  in  the  clouds'  clear  glory  softly  veiled, 
A  crown,  whereon,  in  lines  of  wondrous  light, 
By  angel's  fingers  traced,  these  words,  "In  Heav'n." 

13* 


•  0  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

And  with  the  picture  these  few  greeting  words: 
"O  sister  of  my  soul !   my  thoughts  to-night 
Are  flown  to  thee,  where  fain  I  too  would  be. 
Though  parted  far,  one  gladd'ning  thought  is  mine; 
The  same  bright  holy  stars  bend  over  each, 
And  one  bright  home  awaits  us  in  the  heav'ns." 

A  glorious  night  in  Italy.     The  moon 

With  softened  splendor  lights  the  sculptured  forms 

There  grouped  in  majesty. 

Corona  stands 

Beside  a  vine-wreathed  pillar  near  her  home ; 
Her  hands  are  clasped  in  reverence ;  her  eyes 
With  admiration  lifted  to  the  heav'ns; 
And,  gazing  in  their  clear  and  wondrous  depths, 
Upon  imagination's  wing  her  soul 
Doth  pass  beyond  the  boundaries  of  earth. 
The  limited,  the  finite,  all  are  lost, 
And  with  the  infinite  she  dwells  alone. 

The  moon  with  regal  grace  descending  low 
Behind  the  distant  hills,  its  parting  beams 
Upon  the  vine-wreathed  pillar  linger  yet. 
Corona  from  the  heav'ns  withdraws  her  gaze; 
Within  her  eyes  there  shines  a  new-born  light 
Of  revelation  ;  for  her  soul  hath  known 
Baptism  of  the  infinite  from  God. 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  ISI 

Its  beauty,  its  sublimity  shall  rest 

A  strong  eternal  pow'r  within  her  soul. 

None  ever  came  aright  to  Art's  high  shrine 

To  minister,  whose  souls  have  never  known 

Baptism  of  the  infinite;  and  none 

Without  it  can  the  crown  of  genius  claim. 

As  yet,  the  revelation  in  her  soul 

Is  but  the  dawning  of  creative  pow'r. 

With  rapture  thrills  her  spirit  gazing  on 

The  master-works  of  mighty  artist  souls. 

These  works  become  her  study,  and  she  dwells 

Amid  the  regions  of  the  beautiful, 

As  in  her  true,  her  Heav'n-appointed  sphere. 

One  only  central  thought,  one  wish,  is  hers; 
That  heights  of  her  ideals  she  may  reach, 
And  know  at  death  her  destiny  fulfilled. 

Within  a  temple  dedicate  to  art 

Corona  in  her  studio  is  seen. 

Her  fingers,  wand'ring  o'er  the  canvas,  trace 

The  likenesses  of  forms  by  others  traced, 

Now  gone  to  win  the  laurel  crowns  of  Heav'n. 

A  few  short  years  have  passed.     The  wreath  of  fame 
Is  resting  brightly  on  Corona's  brow  ; 


2  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

And  glory  in  its  true,  best  sense  is  hers, — 
That  which  a  noble  thinker  called  "the  cry 
Of  sympathy  and  recognition"  hers. 

The  pictures  many  whose  ideas  high 
Were  of  her  soul  the  bright  and  holy  birth ; 
Yet  no  one  gives  such  luster  to  her  fame 
As  this  whereon  we  gaze,  and  there  behold 
The  transcript  of  her  vision,  which  she  told 
Her  teacher  in  that  far-off  island  home 
In  holy  quiet  of  the  Sabbath  eve. 

The  setting  sun  on  Venice  shines.     The  west, 
With  almost  fearful  splendor  all  aglow, 
With  glist'ning  brightness  gilds  cathedral  spires, 
And  on  the  waters  down  its  glory  casts. 

Before  her  canvas  sits  Corona  now, 
The  canvas  bright  with  beauteous  imagery. 
Her  pencil,  wand' ring  o'er  it  here  and  there, 
The  last  perfecting  touches  ling' ring  gives. 
And  now  the  pencil  from  her  fingers  drops. 
She  gazes.    The  mysterious,  sacred  awe 
That  only  to  the  genius-gifted  comes 
When  on  their  souls'  creation  they  can  look, 
And  feel,  like  God's  creation,  it  is  good, 
Intense  and  holy  moves  through  all  her  soul. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


153 


Upon  her  hand  her  head  is  softly  bowed ; 
While,  gliding  through  the  window,  sunset  beams 
Gleam  like  ethereal  jewels  in  her  hair, 
And  with  a  golden  halo  crown  her  brow. 

Approaching  footsteps  fall  upon  her  ear, 

And,  rising,  she  beholds  an  aged  man. 

His  long  white  hair  upon  his  shoulders  sweeps, 

And  wearily  he  leans  upon  his  staff, 

While  his  own  trembling  hand  a  child-hand  clasps. 

They  enter  there,  the  pilgrim  and  the  child, 
And  thus  the  old  man  to  Corona  speaks : 

"  I  come,  O  daughter  of  a  glorious  art ! 

I  come,  that,  while  the  light  may  visit  still 

These  eyes  fast  closing  to  its  beams,  thy  works, 

The  beautiful  creations  of  thy  soul, 

Whose  fame  hath  reached  me  o'er  the  rolling  seas, 

May  grant  their  beauty  to  my  waning  sight. 

I've   wandered    through    some   fair    and   wondrous 

climes ; 

Yes,  from  my  youth  a  wand'rer  I  have  been. 
The  friends  who  loved  me  once,  whom  I  have  loved, 
Are  dwellers  on  this  lonely  earth  no  more ; 
Save  this  one  child.     Her  mother — and  my  child — 
Lies  buried  in  a  vale  of  Palestine. 


54  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

And  yet  one  brother's  fate  J  cannot  tell. 
This  only  like  some  legend  I  have  heard  : 
That  when  my  father  and  my  mother  closed 
Their  eyes  in  that  last  sleep  that  comes  to  all, 
And  when  our  only  sister  passed  from  earth 
To  join  the  angels  in  the  upper  spheres, 
My  brother,  in  his  sorrow  strong  and  great, 
Departed  from  that  home,  then  home  no  more, 
And  dwelt  alone  in  some  far  lovely  isle ; 
Yet  never  hope  I  him  to  meet  on  earth. 

And  now  I  journey  to  my  childhood's  home. 
I  go  to  kneel  by  those  three  sacred  graves ; 
And  if  the  roof  that  sheltered  me  in  youth 
Still  rests  upon  its  ivy-mantled  walls, 
I  hope  that  thence  my  soul  may  pass  to  heav'n. 

Ah  !  if  I  only  knew  upon  what  isle 
My  only  brother  reared  his  lonely  home, 
How  gladly  would  I  journey  there  !     If  death 
Hath  parted  him  from  earth,  I  still  would  go 
To  kneel  in  holy  sorrow  by  his  tomb. 

Ah,  daughter  !  why  to  thee  I  this  have  told 

I  know  not ;  and  self-wonder  it  doth  wake. 

For  rarely  to  another  soul  I  tell 

Aught  that  concerns  my  own.     Perchance  'tis  well. 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


155 


I'm  old,  as  thou  dost  see,  and  growing  blind; 
And  when  not  many  suns  shall  rise  and  set, 
The  light  of  earth  shall  visit  me  no  more." 

Upon  the  pilgrim  doth  Corona  gaze 

With  reverence ;  and  in  his  presence  now 

She  seemeth  to  herself  a  child  again. 

And,  with  this  touching  thought  within  her  soul, — 

He's  growing  blind,  and  that  his  aged  eyes, 

To  which  the  sunlight  soon  shall  come  no  more, 

May  view  my  soul's  creations,  he  hath  come, — 

She  in  a  low  and  rev'rent  tone  doth  say, 

"O  rev' rend  friend!  I  gladly  greet  thee  here." 

The  sunlight  soft  and  beautiful  illumes 

Each  picture  round  with  radiance  brightly  sweet. 

The  old  man  moves  among  them ;  and  his  soul, 
While  gazing,  in  its  inmost  depths  receives 
Their  all  of  beauty  and  sublimity. 

He  pauses  now  before  the  pictured  scenes 
Of  that  bright  vision  which  Corona's  soul 
Received  when  in  her  far-off  island  home; 
And  in  his  soul  there  comes  a  happy  glow 
Like  youth's  enthusiasm;  and  a  smile 
Like  that  which  springs  from  hope  is  on  his  lips. 


156 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


And  then  to  him  Corona  doth  repeat 
The  vision  as  she  told  it  once  before, 
And  at  another  sunset  time,  and  far 
Away  within  her  own  sweet  island  home. 
And  while  the  same  enthusiasm  glows 
As  then  upon  the  altar  of  her  soul. 

She  ceases,  and  the  aged  pilgrim  speaks, 

In  cadence  slow  and  solemn,  almost  sad  : 

"Ah!  friend,  young  friend,  whose  soul  with  all  its 

pow'rs 

Thy  life  is  shaping  by  that  vision  fair, 
Across  whose  spirit  intuition  tells 
Few  clouds  of  sorrow  have  their  shadows  cast, 
The  time  will  come  when  on  thy  youthful  head 
Dark  clouds  will  gather  blackness, — round  thy  path 
Will  sweep  in  thund'ring  fury, — saddest  still, 
Will  hide  from  thee  thy  Heav'nly  Father's  face. 
The  deep  foundations  of  thy  faiths  and  hopes, 
Thy  pow'rs  of  suffering,  thy  strength  t'  endure, 
Shall  all  be  tried  ;  and  at  this  costly  price 
It  is  at  last  the  lesson  thou  shalt  learn, 
That  through  the  cross  alone  the  crown  is  won." 

Corona  unto  these  prophetic  words 

Doth  list  intently.     When  the  last  she  hears, 

Her  eyes,  before  with  somewhat  awe  downcast, 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


157 


Now  quickly  lifted,  with  an  earnest  gaze 

Are  bent  upon  the  speaker.     For  these  words 

In  thought  transport  her  to  a  lonely  cot 

'Mong  moss-grown  rocks,  where,  kneeling,  on  her  ear 

In  dying  accents  falls  her  teacher's  pray'r, 

' '  In  her  remembrance  may  she  ever  keep 

This  truth,  that  through  the  cross  the  crown  is  won." 

And  is  it  fancy  that  Corona  now 

Doth  trace  resemblance  in  the  stranger's  face 

To  that  of  him  who  breathed  that  dying  pray'r? 

For  such  resemblance  doth  there  seem.     And  now 

She  tells  him  of  her  own  far  island  home; 

Her  days  of  childhood  and  of  youth  there  spent ; 

Of  him  who  in  that  Sabbath  sunset  hour 

So  peacefully  to  heaven  passed ;  then  says, 

"  Perchance  it  is  thy  brother,  O  my  friend  ! 

Above  whose  grave,  when  each  returning  year 

Doth  bring  again  that  Sabbath  sunset  hour, 

The  islanders,  with  reverential  love, 

Strew  amaranthine  blossoms,  and  entwine 

His  monument  with  ever-verdant  sprays. 

'Tis  thus,  I've  heard,  they  outwardly  evince 

The  memories  of  him  they  keep  within. 

But  few  are  they  upon  that  isle  who  know 
His  early  history.     Yet,  shouldst  thou  choose 
14 


1 58  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

To  learn  if  'twas  thy  brother,  there  are  two, 

If  still  in  life,  can  tell  thee  many  things: 

The  white-haired  captain  of  the  ship  which  bore 

My  teacher  to  our  isle,  the  minister, 

Through  childhood-days  and  youth  his  pupil,  then 

His  friend  in  after-years.     And  ev'ry  one, 

When  each  the  wherefore  of  thy  coming  learns, 

Will  gladly  greet  thee.     In  my  father's  home 

Thrice  welcome  shalt  thou  be :  for  thine  own  sake, 

For  mine,  and  for  the  sake  of  him  who  taught 

My  youthful  years." 

The  pilgrim  thus  replies  : 

"  For  these,  thy  words  of  kindness,  thanks,  my  friend ; 
And  if  the  God  who  guides  His  children,  grant 
Me  journey  thither  safe,  and  safe  return, 
And  if  this  hope  thou  hast  awakened  find 
Reality,  when  to  my  native  land 
And  home  returning,  then  to  tell  thee  this 
I'll  see  thee  once  again.     But  oh  !  so  soon 
Have  I  forgotten  that  the  darkness  comes 
To  seal  my  vision,  and  to  make  my  life 
On  earth  henceforth  one  night,  though  soon  to  end  ! 
And  though  I  never  here  shall  see  thee  more, 
Yet  in  the  land  of  everlasting  day 
I'll  see  thee  crowned  among  the  angels  stand. 
And  this  I  now  do  know,  that  for  the  hour 
When  on  the  fair  creations  of  thy  soul 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


159 


My  waning  vision  rested,  my  own  soul 

Shall  happier  be  through  all  eternity. 

'Tis  twilight  now — God  bless  thee,  friend — farewell." 

The  twilight  shades,  with  silence  solemn,  deep 

Are  gathering  within  that  room.     Alone 

Once  more,  Corona  by  the  window  stands, 

The  star  of  evening  looking  down  on  her 

In  mild  yet  solemn  beauty.     But  her  thoughts 

Are  wandering  through  times  whose  length  exceeds 

The  unimagined  distance  of  that  star, 

Or  stars  ten  thousand  times  more  distant  still, — 

Are  in  eternity;  and  in  her  soul 

The  echo  and  re-echo  of  these  words, 

" Shall  happier  be  through  all  eternity," 

A  solemn  joy  diffuse,  a  blessing  bring 

Like  God's  own  benediction.     For  whoe'er 

A  joy  eternal  brings  to  any  soul 

Dorh  cause  it  to  draw  nearer  to  its  God ; 

And  such,  when  standing  by  the  great  white  Throne, 

Shall  hear,  "Ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  come." 

V. 

'Tis  night  in  India:   'tis  the  midnight  hour. 

The  moonlight,  streaming  through  the  window,  falls 

Upon  the  bowed  head  of  Cruce,  and  casts 


!6o  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Its  fair,  pale  beams  upon  the  sheeted  dead. 
It  is  a  night-watch  in  the  room  of  death ; 
And  this  night-watch  Cruce  now  keeps  alone. 
The  young  girl,  her  companion  watcher,  sleeps. 
Cruce,  remembering  the  weary  hours 
Of  vigils  never  tiring,  kept  so  long 
By  this  young  sleeper  near  her  mother's  side 
Till  life  and  hope  departed,  wakes  her  not, 
But  bows  her  head  and  there  in  silence  weeps. 

These  tears  are  not  of  grief  for  this  one  dead, 
Though  long  her  mission-pupil  she  hath  been ; 
But  that  this  soul  but  faint  hope  left  behind 
Of  life  immortal  in  the  blessed  land. 
Yet  for  this  soul  how  earnestly  she  toiled, 
With  naught  to  show  but  that  'twas  all  in  vain 
But  this  alone,  that  since  this  soul  had  heard 
Of  that  one  God,  Creator  of  all  things, 
And  Ruler  of  the  destinies  of  men, 
No  idol  temple  had  her  presence  known, 
No  false  god's  altar  had  her  gift  received  ! 

The  morning  dawns.    When  hours  have  passed  away, 
A  group  of  friends  are  gathered  round  the  dead ; 
Then  others  fill  the  room,  and  others  wait 
To  bear  the  dead  to  its  last  resting-place. 
There  they  in  silence  for  the  coming  wait 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  161 

Of  him  who  to  the  dead  may  give  the  rites 
Of  Christian  burial.     Though  long  they  wait, 
The  missionary  comes  not;  and  they  cast 
Each  on  the  other  an  inquiring  gaze, 
Then  gaze  upon  Cruce,  with  saddened  mien 
Among  them  waiting  as  the  rest.     And  now, 
Her  soul  recalling  from  its  mournful  thoughts, 
And  understanding  their  mute  questioning, 
She  takes  the  holy  volume,  opes,  and  reads. 

She  reads  of  Him  who  bowed  His  head  in  death, 
The  human  soul  to  ransom  from  its  pow'r, 
And  Conq'ror  of  the  grave  on  high,  to  Heav'n 
Ascended,  there  to  reign  for  evermore. 
And  then  in  deep  solemnity  she  speaks 
Of  great  eternity's  dread,  awful  scenes, 
When  in  the  clouds  of  glory  shall  descend 
The  Crucified,  the  Risen  One,  to  judge 
The  earth  in  equity  and  righteousness. 

Then  some  who  listen,  and  who  have  received 
The  truth  in  part  before,  but  entered  not 
The  path  that  leads  to  Christ,  now  feel  their  souls 
Moved  by  invisible  and  mighty  pow'r. 

When  she  in  earnest  words,  made  eloquent 
By  her  deep  sorrow,  pointeth  out  the  gate, 

14* 


2  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

The  gate  of  hope,  which  death  doth  close  for  aye, 
And  urges  them — how  pleadingly  ! — to  come, 
And,  ent'ring  there,  give  all  their  souls  to  Him 
Who  gave,  in  love  so  great,  His  life  for  them ; 
Then  there  in  solemn  presence  of  the  dead 
Arise  the  wailing  cries  of  penitence, 
Wherein  so  many  voices  blend,  the  voice 
That  pleads,  no  longer  to  be  heard,  doth  cease. 

But  soon  this  cry  of  mourning  grows  subdued  ; 
And  then  Cruce  invokes  the  God  of  love 
To  send  the  new  life  to  those  mourning  hearts. 
And,  quick  as  lightning-flash,  the  sounds  of  woe 
Are  changed  to  son-gs  of  praise  to  Christ  their  God. 
And  when  are  given  to  the  dead  the  last 
Sad  ministries,  then  to  their  homes  return 
A  band  of  new  disciples  of  the  cross. 

And  soon  within  that  heathen  city  comes 

A  change.     And  soon  each  idol  temple  stands 

By  all  deserted  save  the  temple  priests. 

But  they,  of  numbers  many,  have  no  thought 

That  they  will  silent  this  desertion  bear, 

But  vow  that  on  each  head  shall  vengeance  fall. 

Nor  vow  they  vainly.     Their  appeal  is  heard 
By  kingly  pow'r.     And  soon  the  mandate  comes, 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

That  they  who  to  their  gods  will  not  return 
Shall  have  their  homes  all  leveled  with  the  dust, 
And  they  be  branded  with  the  name  of  slaves. 

And  those  who  uttered  first  the  words  that  drew 
These  idol-worshipers  to  leave  those  shrines, 
Shall  hear  the  prison-bars  behind  them  close, 
Shall  find  the  prison-walls  to  be  their  home. 
Cruce  with  others  now  doth  meet  this  fate. 


The  glory  of  the  morn  on  sea  and  shore 
In  dawning  splendor  gleams.     Upon  the  strand 
A  throng  of  human  beings  wait,  the  while 
A  ship  is  from  its  moorings  loosed.     Apart 
From  all  the  rest  who  wait,  a  trio  stand, 
And,  gazing  on  the  mighty  rolling  waves, 
Behold  this  image  of  the  infinite 
With  awe  and  exaltation  of  the  soul 
Such  as  sublimity  alone  can  bring. 

And  of  this  trio  is  Corona  one ; 

Her  father,  mother  making  it  complete. 

For  they  have  come  from  their  far  island  home 

To  meet  their  child  beneath  Italian  skies, 


1 64  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

To  view  the  wonders  of  this  land  of  art, 
And  tread  the  classic  ground  the  ancients  trod, 
When  on  the  sev'n-hilled  city  had  not  set 
The  star  of  Roman  greatness.     Soon  this  ship 
Shall  waft  them  over  seas  to  lands  remote. 

And  what  high  hopes  now  fill  Corona's  soul 

At  thought  of  lands  which  she  hath  longed  to  see 

E'en  from   her   childhood   days !     Now  groups  of 

friends 
Around  them  gather,  bidding  them  farewell. 

And  now  Corona  greets  that  pilgrim  old, 

Whose  eyes  from  earthly  light  are  closed  for  aye, 

And  now,  as  once  before,  by  child-hand  led. 

Among  his  parting  words  he  these  doth  speak : 

"I've  knelt  beside  that  grave  in  yonder  isle, 

And  known  it  was  my  brother's.     Youthful  friend, 

When  to  Italia's  land  thou  shalt  return, 

I  shall  be  sleeping  as  my  brother  sleeps. 

But  grateful  thoughts  of  thee  shall  in  my  pray'rs 

Be  mingled  even  to  the  final  hour ; 

And  then  in  heav'n  thou'lt  be  remembered  still." 

The  ship  now  entered,  moving  from  the  shore, 
With  graceful  majesty  sweeps  o'er  the  deep, 
And  casts  its  anchor  on  the  Grecian  shore. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  ^ 

O  Greece  !  thou  wondrous,  Heaven-gifted  land, 

Where  art  and  song  arose  so  grandly  high ; 

Thou  birthplace  of  philosophy,  all  hail ! 

Thy  noble  thinkers  of  the  elder  days, 

Who  swayed  the  human  mind  with  sceptered  pow'r, 

Still  wield  a  sceptered  pow'r  o'er  minds  to-day, 

To  perish  not  when  earth  shall  be  no  more  ! 

Ah  !  if  those  heathen  minds  could  now  behold 

How  all  their  longing  for  the  infinite, 

Their  aspirations  for  the  highest  good, 

Have  found  their  answer  in  the  world's  to-day, 

Through  Christianity  the  Heaven-sent 

To  earth  descending,  how  would  they  rejoice, 

How  wonder,  too,  at  those  who  turn  aside, 

While  o'er  their  way  truth's  dazzling  splendor  streams, 

To  seek  the  darkness  rather  than  the  light ! 

And  now  Corona  and  her  parents  roam 

The  vales  of  Greece ;  ascend  its  mountain  heights. 

Olympus,  with  its  coronet  of  snow, 

With  lofty  grandeur  rises  to  their  view. 

They  stand  on  Marathon's  mount-circled  plain, — 

That  plain — when  even  centuries  had  passed 

Since  on  the  victors  and  the  vanquished  gleamed 

The  sunset  of  its  memorable  day — 

Believed  of  spectral  warriors  the  haunt, 


6  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

/ 

Where  nightly  rang  the  shouts  of  combatants. 
And  then  in  Athens,  once  the  queen  of  art 
And  learning,  do  they  linger,  while  their  gaze 
Upon  its  architectural  wonders  rests, 
Its  sculpture,  and  its  painting.     Then  farewell 
They  bid  to  Grecian  shores.     And  when  some  days 
And  nights  have  passed,  they  greet  the  rising  sun 
Upon  a  sacred  plain  of  Palestine. 

And  as  they  gaze  upon  the  lakes  and  mounts 
Forever  hallowed  by  the  gaze  Divine, 
An  awe,  a  reverence  comes  o'er  their  souls, 
Which  Nature's  grandest  scenes,  and  all  of  Art's 
Achievements,  noblest,  highest,  had  no  pow'r 
To  waken  when  in  other  lands  they  roamed. 

They  tread  the  winding  paths  of  Olivet ; 

They  walk  where  once  in  anguish,  pray'r,  and  tears, 

And  bowed  with  grief,  the  Man  of  Sorrows  trod. 

Across  the  centuries  that  intervene, 

Transported  by  imagination's  pow'r, 

They  seem  to  hear,  in  deep,  bewailing  tones, 

The  lamentation  o'er  Jerusalem. 

And  once,  as  shades  of  night  are  gath'ring  round, 
They  sit  in  silent  thought  'neath  olive-trees, 
And  o'er  their  souls  a  somewhat  shadow  comes 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  167 

Of  sad  Gethsemane's  great  anguish-scene. 
And  oh  !  what  utter  woe  in  that  dark  hour 
Could  from  Omnipotence  thus  wring  the  cry, 
"If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass"  / 

If  love  mean  sacrifice,  then  here  it  found 
A  sacrifice  full  equal  to  itself; 
Love  infinite,  its  sacrifice  the  same. 

And  in  this  silent  meditative  hour 

A  pow'r  upon  Corona's  soul  doth  move, 

A  mighty  pow'r  it  never  knew  before. 

From  early  childhood  she  had  loved  the  One 
Who  came  to  earth  to  ope  the  gates  of  heav'n. 
She  knew  that  God  doth  all  His  children  love; 
But  as  upon  her  soul  there  rushes  now 
Most  vivid  consciousness  of  that  great  love, 
In  length,  breadth,  depth,  and  height  immeasurable, 
She  realizes  first  in  all  her  life 
The  pow'r,  the  beauty  of  God's  love  to  her, 
The  holy  friendship  of  the  Crucified. 
It  is  as  if  some  fountain  in  her  soul 
By  some  celestial  touch  hath  been  unsealed ; 
And  calmly,  yet  resistlessly,  it  flows 
To  meet  its  primal  source, — the  heart  of  God. 


8  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Through  many  lands  and  scenes  the  trav'lers  roam, 
And  sometimes,  too,  in  crowded  cities  pause, 
Where  throngs  of  anxious,  restless  beings  pass, 
Who  still  shall  live  when  all  this  wondrous  world, 
With  its  dissolving  beauties,  rushes  back 
To  voids  chaotic. 

The  meridian  sun 

O'er  calmly-rolling  waters  casts  its  sheen, 
And  o'er  those  waters  glides  a  ship  that  bears 
The  trio  toward  Italia's  sunny  shores. 


VI. 

But  prison-walls  are  powerless  to  dim 

The  light  of  faith,  that  with  Cruce  doth  grow 

More  strong,  and  stronger  still.     This  light  dispels 

The  sadness  deep  her  eyes  have  shadowed  forth 

Through  many  days  of  many  former  years. 

The  high  triumphant  pow'r  is  shining  there. 

A  night  hath  passed ;  and  now  the  crimson  light 

Of  early  morn  illumes  the  dungeon-bars. 

Cruce  looks  out  upon  demolished  homes, 

And  reads  the  triumphs  of  a  holy  faith 

In  true  brave  souls  who  fear  no  one  but  God ; 

And  in  her  soul  there  comes  a  mighty  joy 

It  never  knew  before.     And  when  she  hears 


CRUCE   AND    CORONA. 

The  tidings  that  no  one  of  those  who  left 
The  idol-worship,  to  those  shrines  returned, 
Exultingly  upon  those  dungeon-walls 
She  gazes,  then  amid  its  gloom  doth  pray, 
"  My  Father,  only  speed  thy  work  begun, 
And  on  this  earth  I  ask  no  fairer  home." 

A  year  hath  passed.     The  suff 'rings  nobly  borne 
By  those  brave  souls  have  moved  the  kingly  heart 
To  send  a  mandate  forth  that  shall  redeem 
Their  lives  from  slavery,  and  give  the  pow'r 
To  rear  their  homes  anew ;  but  brings  no  hope 
To  those  imprisoned.     As  Cruce  oft  thinks 
Of  souls  all  eager  for  the  words  of  life, 
For  holy  teachings,  o'er  her  soul  there  comes 
A  sadness  for  some  moments,  soon  to  pass ; 
And  then  she  whispers,  "'Tis  my  Father's  will, 
And  He  will  call  when  He  hath  need  of  me." 
Within  that  prison  now,  she  learns  the  last 
Of  three  great  lessons  of  this  life  on  earth, — 
To  do,  to  suffer,  and  to  wait  God's  will. 

At  last,  one  day,  from  those  dark  prison-walls 
The  prisoners  go  forth,  and  to  their  work 
Of  hbly  ministries  return  again. 
Now,  for  awhile,  each  day  upon  some  soul 
The  Holy  Spirit  sets  redemption's  seal. 


169 


170 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 


The  teachings  of  Cruce  are  fraught  with  pow' 
That  ne'er  before  had  oft  to  her  been  given ; 
And  some  serene  celestial  light  within 
Doth  lead  her  on  to  grander  heights  of  truth. 


And  now  an  answer  doth  there  seem  vouchsafed, 
An  answer  to  her  teacher's  dying  pray'r : 
"And  while  she  nobly  bears  her  earthly  cross, 
May  she  behold  the  crown  that  shines  above." 


How  wildly  fierce,  O  storms  !  ye  sweep  to-night 
The  ocean,  rousing  all  its  waves  to  wrath, 
Until  around  the  ship  they  dash  and  surge, 
And,  mounting  high,  with  snowy- crested  foam 
Enfold  it  as  it  were  its  winding-sheet. 

Within  that  ship,  within  a  silent  room, 
Is  one  who  recks  your  presence  not ;  the  while 
A  dim  and  flick' ring  taper  casts  its  light 
On  brows  where  death  hath  set  its  icy  seal, 
And  forms  like  statues  motionless  and  cold. 

With  eyes  averted  from  those  lifeless  forms 
And  fixed  in  silence  on  the  silent  walls, 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  171 

She  stands  who  recks  not  those  fierce  storms  without. 

And  in  her  eyes  there  is  no  gleam  of  hope, 

Enthusiasm,  joy  ;  all  these  have  fled, 

And  in  their  place  a  stony  fixedness 

Of  look  that  changes  not.     Her  hands  are  clasped, 

Clasped  tightly,  in  a  mute,  still  agony. 

A  strange,  a  deathlike  fixedness  of  soul 
Comes  now ;  the  work  of  suffering  that  tried 
Endurance'  pow'rs,  until  at  last  its  pow'r 
To  torture  was  at  end,  and  so  gave  o'er. 
And  is  it  thus  the  pilgrim's  prophecy 
Begins  to  find  fulfillment  ?     Even  so. 
It  is  Corona  who  thus  mutely  stands  ; 
It  is  her  parents  who  in  death  repose. 

Kind  friends  within  that  room  pass  to  and  fro, 
And  gaze  upon  Corona  with  a  look 
In  which  compassion  doth  with  terror  blend. 
Her  wan  face  in  that  dim  and  flick'ring  light 
Looks  ghastly  as  the  faces  of  the  dead. 
Approaching  gently  now,  they  whisper  low. 
She  moves  not,  neither  doth  her  aspect  change  ; 
But  when  they  seek  to  loose  the  clasping  hands, 
Convulsively  they  seek  to  clasp  again, 
And  then   her  head   droops   low.      They  lead  her 
thence, 


172 


CRUCE   AND   CORONA. 


And,  human  consolation  void  of  povv'r, 

They  leave  her  with  her  sorrow,  and  with  God. 

Soft  breezes  o'er  the  tranquil  waters  blow, 
And  waft  the  homeward  vessel  on  its  way ; 
And  on  Italia's  sunset-lighted  shores 
At  last  in  anchorage  it  safely  rests. 
But  oh  !  the  glory  of  Italian  skies 
No  joy  of  beauty  to  the  orphan  brings. 
And  in  her  studio  once  more,  alone, 
The  throngs  of  memories  that  o'er  her  rush 
Unseal  at  last  the  fountain  of  her  tears. 

Night  passes.     In  the  twilight  of  the  morn 
The  star  of  dawn  beholds  her  weeping  still. 
But  not  in  cloudless  splendor  doth  the  sun 
Begin  this  day  his  journey  through  the  heav'ns. 
His  brightness  mists  are  veiling  ;  and  the  clouds 
Ere  long  drop  down  upon  the  earth  their  tears. 
All  nature  seems  to  weep.     The  trees  that  shade 
The  orphan's  window  without  ceasing  weep, 
And  vines  that  wreathe  the  pillars  of  yon  dome, 
The  temple  of  her  art,  bend  ev'ry  leaf 
All  heavy-freighted  with  the  crystal  drops. 

It  is  the  sunset  now  ;  and  never  gleamed 

A  brighter  sunset  o'er  this  sunny  land. 

On  golden-tinted,  crimson-bordered  clouds 


173 


CKUCE  AND   CORONA. 

Corona's  gaze  is  resting  listlessly. 

She  sees  not  for  awhile  the  childish  form 

That  near  her  door  for  recognition  waits, 

Then  enters  silently  and  by  her  stands. 

It  is  the  child-guide  of  the  pilgrim  blind. 

She  brings  a  message.     And  Corona  reads 

The  words  he  uttered  in  his  dying  hour. 

He  asks  that  to  her  care  the  little  child 

May  be  intrusted ;  and  he  closes  thus : 

"  Perchance  around  thee  even  now,  my  friend, 

The  clouds  of  sorrow  gather.     Standing  now 

Upon  the  borders  of  the  blessed  land, 

My  prescient  vision  bids  me  not  recall 

The  words  of  prophecy  to  thee  I  spake. 

But  never  in  thy  soul  let  faith  and  hope 

Grow  weary.     Thou  at  last  thy  crown  shalt  win. 

Be  faithful  unto  death,  till  eventide, 

And  then  at  eventide  it  shall  be  light." 


The  coming  of  this  little  child,  that  brings 
New  duties,  from  her  meditative  grief 
Recalls  Corona  into  active  life. 
Her  thoughts,  that  days  and  weeks  within  the  past 
Have  wandered,  dwelling  ever  with  the  dead, 
Now  turn  confiding  to  the  orphan's  God, 
And  in  the  promise  that  the  blessed  dead 
15* 


174 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


Shall  live  in  blessed  immortality, 

She  makes  her  stronghold,  and  her  soul  grows  calm. 

But  o'er  her  intellect  now  comes  a  change. 

The  hopes,  beliefs,  that  from  her  childhood  days 

On  faith's  foundations  lay,  unquestioned  e'er 

By  reason  till  this  hour,  now  seem  called  forth 

By  reason,  grown  impatient  to  demand 

The  why  of  these.     "Why  hopest  thou,  O  soul, 

To  meet  the  dead  from  whom  thou'rt  parted  here?" 

These  questionings  she  meets  with  God's  own  word. 

But  reason  still,  like  something  grown  apart 

E'en  from  her  very  self,  still  further  on 

Doth  press  its  questioning  to  other  truths. 

Yet  all  this  while,  within  her  soul  no  doubt 

Doth  come  of  all  these  truths.     And  reason  too 

Denies  them  not,  but  only  asks  the  why. 

Thus  days  and  weeks  are  passed.    She  studies,  weeps, 
And  prays.     The  light  by  human  genius  shed 
On  these  same  truths,  that  cometh  in  her  reach, 
Is  welcomed  eagerly. 

And  once  she  turns 

From  all  this  weary  thinking  to  her  art. 
But  not  as  in  her  bright  unsorrowed  days 
The  bright  fair  imagery  around  her  throngs, 
And  ev'ry  faculty  now  seems  spell-bound. 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  I7S 

But,  as  the  days  pass  on,  the  clouds  and  mists 

Roll  slowly  from  her  intellectual  heav'ns, 

Where  shine  like  stars,  with  light  more  clear  than 

day, 

The  truths  which  reason  so  severely  tried. 
And  in  their  midst  new  constellations  bright 
Of  truths  her  spirit  never  knew  before, 
Now  by  Divine  illumination  giv'n. 
And  on  her  canvas  hath  she  never  traced 
Such  high  and  glorious  imagery  as  now 
Enraps  her  mental  vision  ;  while  returns  , 
The  beautiful  with  all  its  gifts  divine. 
The  change  doth  seem  as  great  as  that  from  death 
To  life.     It  is  her  intellectual  birth. 
The  language  of  her  soul,  "Once  have  I  known, 
Yea,  twice,  that  pow'r  belongeth  unto  God." 

God  promises  to  those  who  first  shall  seek 

His  kingdom,  and  His  righteousness,  all  things 

Shall  added  be.     Among  these  "all  things,"  then, 

Why  not  the  intellect  regenerate? 

To  some  it  may  not  come  until  in  heav'n 

They  dwell  in  God's  own  presence;  unto  some 

It  comes  on  earth,  according  to  their  faith, 

According  to  the  works  that  follow  faith. 

The  time  may  come  when  men  no  more  will  doubt 

That  God  our  Saviour  purchased  by  His  death 


I?6  CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 

This  birth  of  intellect  for  man,  than  now 
They  doubt  His  heart-regenerating  pow'r. 


God  is  the  Holy.     So  is  He  the  True, 
The  Source  of  all  the  everlasting  truths 
Towards  which  all  science,  knowing  it  or  not, 
Doth  climb,  and  must  forever  climb,  nor  rest 
Until  at  last  it  sees  them  face  to  face. 
God  is  the  Beautiful ;  for  which  the  soul 
Within  its  inmost  depths  doth  ever  long; 
The  Real  of  the  great  Ideal,— God. 
The  intellect,  the  heart  cry  out  for  God. 
He  is  the  all  in  all  of  human  thought, 
He  is  the  all  in  all  of  human  love, 
And  thought  and  love  at  last  in  Him  shall  rest. 
The  pow'r  to  reach  the  holy,  unto  man 
Is  given  by  the  cross.     So  is  the  pow'r 
To  reach  the  beautiful,  to  reach  the  true. 
And  thus,  O  Father,  may  thy  kingdom  come ! 

Though  with  new  panoplies  of  strength  her  soul 
Doth  from  this  trial  come,  as  burnished  gold 
Doth  from  its  crucible  come  forth,  yet  still 
The  anguish  of  those  watchings  on  the  deep, 
The  grief  of  loss,  and,  last  nor  least  in  pow'r, 
This  intellectual  trial,  not  in  vain 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  i>j-j 

Have  wrought  upon  the  dwelling  of  the  soul 
Their  fatal  work.     And  day  by  day  her  step 
Grows  slower  and  more  weary ;  and  the  glow 
That  fled  her  cheek  upon  that  fearful  night 
When  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  she  stood 
With  face  as  ghastly  as  their  own,  shall  ne'er 
Return.     Yet  for  her  art  she  still  would  live, 
And  patiently  yet  longingly  she  waits 
For  strength  to  paint  ideals  of  her  soul 
That  strongly  for  their  own  expression  urge. 

But  hope  deferred  grows  weary;  and  resolve 
At  length  attempts  alone,  what  strength  denies; 
And  on  the  canvas  traced  with  trembling  hand 
Are  outlined  forms  that  coloring  but  wait 
To  give  to  them  most  wondrous  lovely  life, 
And  then  her  hand  drops  pow'rless  from  its  task. 
A  mighty  desolation  fills  her  soul, — 
The  signal  of  the  death  of  hope.     She  cries, 
"My  soul,  this  earth  hath  nothing  more  for  thee. 
Where  art  thou,  O  my  Father?  take  me  home  !" 

And  soon  a  message  to  Cruce  she  sends, 
Transcribed  by  friendly  hand,  and  reading  thus : 
"  My  days  are  few.     I'm  passing  swiftly  hence. 
Had  I  not  so  much  suffered,  not  so  great 
Had  been  this  strength  of  soul,  these  added  pow'rs; 


1 78 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA. 


My  crown  on  earth,  and  herald  of  my  crown 

In  heav'n.     The  thoughts  of  beauty  in  my  soul 

Shall  find  expression  there,  denied  them  here. 

My  work  is  over.     Sundered  ev'ry  tie 

That  bound  me  here.     While  from  my  spirit's  depths 

There  comes  a  sad  beseeching  cry  for  rest, 

That  God  alone  can  answer,  God  alone, 

Across  the  lands  and  seas  that  lie  between 

I  call  to  thee,  my  friend,  my  sister,  come." 

Then  gently  as  descend  the  dews  of  heav'n 
The  pilgrim's  words  do  to  her  spirit  come: 
"And  then  at  eventide  it  shall  be  light." 
And  softly  to  herself  she  murmurs  low, 
"A  little  longer,  O  my  weary  soul! 
A  little  longer,  and  the  night  shall  break, 
And  o'er  thee,  in  its  holy  splendor,  stream 
The  calm,  eternal  light  of  heaven's  dawn." 


VII. 

The  sun  shines  bright  within  the  western  heav'ns, 
Its  glory  resting  on  a  vine- wreathed  bow'r; 
And  lights  and  shadows,  quivering  within, 
Surround  Corona.     On  her  snowy  brow 
A  crown  of  sunbeams  dropped  'tween  leaves  above, 


CRUCE  AND   CORONA.  179 

Upon  her  countenance  celestial  peace 
Reposes  with  a  beauty  most  serene. 

The  sun  that  shines  so  brightly  in  the  heav'ns 
Is  waiting  now  the  hour  of  its  eclipse ; 
To  witness  this,  e'en  with  her  dying  gaze, 
Corona  waiteth  now  within  this  bow'r. 

Cruce  beside  her  stands  in  silence  sad, 
And  tearfully  she  gazes  on  her  friend, — 
Companion  of  the  days  of  early  youth, 
And  playmate  of  her  childhood,  in  that  home, 
That  far,  sweet  island  home,  which  nevermore 
The  eyes  of  either  shall  again  behold. 

Time  passes.     To  her  friend  she  whispers  low. 

Corona's  eyes  unclose ;  and  now  she  sees 

The  dying  sunlight  resting  on  the  leaves, 

The  sun  grow  lesser,  dimmer  all  the  while. 

Then  in  a  twilight  strange  the  stars  come  forth, 

A  mighty  shadow  falls,  and  folds  the  earth 

In  what  doth  seem  a  supernatural  night. 

The  full-orbed  night-queen,  hanging  in  the  heav'ns, 

Confronts  the  sun,  and  hides  his  kingly  face. 

A  perfect  crown,  a  circlet  of  bright  rays, 
Surrounds  her,  and  yet  still  is  not  her  own : 
It  is  the  day-king's  royal  signet  ring. 


o  CRUCE  AND   CORONA. 

In  queenly  grace  she  from  his  presence  glides ; 

In  momentary  twilight  vanish  now 

The  moon  and  stars  ;  the  sun  is  left  alone. 

Once  more  Cruce  doth  turn  her  tearful  gaze 
Upon  Corona.     On  her  death-white  face 
The  peace  ascends  to  rapture,  and  her  eyes 
Are  lit  with  radiance  from  upper  lands. 
In  clear,  sweet  tones  like  sound  of  seraph  lute, 
She  cries,"  '  Tis  come,  'tis  come,  M  eternal  day  ! 
Love  folds  its  white  wings  o1  er  my  soul,  and  cries, 
'  Thou  earnest  from  the  Infinite,  and  now, 
O  soul!  to  that  same  Infinite  return.'  ' 

Her  eyes  close  softly  in  the  beautiful, 

The  last  sweet  sleep,  the  type  of  perfect  rest. 

The  airs  around,  within  that  bow'r  are  fraught 

With  angel  benedictions.     And  her  lips 

Move  lightly,  whisp'ring  from  the  shores  of  death, 

"I  see  the  land  that  is  very  far  off, 

I  see  the  King  in  his  beauty." 


The  years 

Thrice  circling  now  have  joined  the  silent  past. 
'Tis  past  the  midnight  hour ;  the  silent  stars 


CRUCE  AND    CORONA.  X8i 

Look  down  in  solemn  beauty  on  the  earth. 
The  crescent  moon  is  rising  o'er  the  hills: 
Its  slight  beams,  falling  now  on  dungeon-bars 
And  entering  through  the  blackened  gratings,  rest 
Among  Cruce's  dark  locks ;  for  once  again 
The  prison-walls  have  shut  her  from  her  work. 

But  Heav'n  is  drawing  nigh,  and  weary  earth 
Receding  from  her  soul.     Her  lips  reveal 
The  vision  that  before  her  spirit  gleams, 
And  in  their  dying  accents  whisper  low, 

"  They  come,  my  father,  mother,  sister- friend  ! 
They  come,  the  angels  a  resplendent  band  ! 
I  wait,  O  Saviour  !  yes,  Thou  too  art  come, 
And  I  to  Thee  am  swiftly  coming  now. 
I  pass  the  angels  round  me  whisp'ring  low, 
'  The  crown!  the  crown!'  and  still  to  Thee  I  come, 
And,  to  thy  holy  presence  now  received, 
Thou'lt  crown  me  with  the  glory  of  thy  love, 
With  its  infinitude  of  depth  and  height. 

MY  SOUL  FOREVER  ASKS  NO  OTHER  CROWN  !" 


1 6 


f]pt>S  rm  fftkov  fjiou  r 
GUARDIAN    ANGELS. 

TWILIGHT  hovered  o'er  a  mountain, 

Morning's  twilight  dim  and  gray  ; 
At  the  mountain's  foot  an  angel 

Waited  for  the  dawn  of  day. 
From  the  mountain's  side  and  summit 

Slowly  rolled  the  mists  away, 
And  the  crimson  light  was  gleaming 

Where  a  child  in  slumbers  lay. 
In  the  sleeper's  ear  the  angel 

Whispered,  "Wake,  behold  the  light, 
Little  child,  I  come  to  lead  thee 

Up  Life's  steep,  lone  mountain  height." 
While  the  child  hand  clasped  he  gently, 

Upward  in  the  dawning  light, 
Onward  went  the  child  and  angel, 

While  in  stature  and  in  might 
Grew  the  child,  and  Wisdom,  Virtue, 

Crowned  him  with  a  regal  crown, 
Till  behind  Life's  mountain  summit 

Sank  the  sun  in  glory  down. 
(182) 


GUARDIAN  ANGELS. 

In  the  dying  light  of  sunset 

Passed  they  from  that  mountain  height 
To  that  far-off  Land  of  Beauty 

Where  there  never  cometh  night. 

Ah  !  how  oft  when  Life -gates  open 

Comes  a  guardian  angel  bright, 
Comes  to  lead  the  spirit  onward 

Through  the  shadows  and  the  light, — 
Conies  to  cheer  and  guide  and  guard  it, 

Never  fainting  by  the  way, 
Never,  never,  never  leaves  it, 

If  the  guarded  do  not  say, 
Not  in  words,  perchance,  but  actions, 

"  I  go  elsewhere  :  do  not  stay." 
On  the  guardian  angel's  spirit 

Awful  weights  of  sorrow  fall, 
While  the  guided  hand  unclasping, 

Sadly  murm'ring,  "Lost  is  all." 
But  whenever  loved  and  trusted, 

Happy,  happy  is  the  soul 
Led  by  such  celestial  guidance 

Onward  to  the  spirit's  goal. 

Guardian  angels  !  how  they  love  us 
With  a  love  that  cannot  tire, 

Glowing  in  those  holy  beings 
With  a  pure  seraphic  fire. 


GUARDIAN  ANGELS. 

Elder  brothers,  elder  sisters, 
Sent  to  us  while  here  below, 

Like  us  loving  one  great  Father, 
From  whom  all  our  spirits  flow. 


THE   LAST    SONG    OF   THE    SPHERES. 

ONCE,  when  the  calm  day,  in  its  beauty  departing, 
On  lingering  light-beams  sent  farewells  to  earth, 

Methought  through  the  golden-barred  gates  of  the  sunset 
I  passed  to  the  land  where  my  spirit  had  birth. 

Afar  in  the  Pleiades  gleamed  Alcyone  ; 

And  thither  my  spirit  directed  its  flight. 
While  powers  unseen  all  around  me  were  hov'ring, 

A  spirit  voice  whispered,  "  Follow  the  light !" 

Then  earth,  sun,  and  planets  grew  dim  to  my  vision, 
And,  led  by  the  beams  that  were  shining  from  far, 

I  journeyed  through  spaces  all  solemn  and  silent, 
Till  welcomed  at  last  to  that  radiant  star. 

Said  one,  o'er  this  Pleiad  the  guardian  angel, 
"  O  dweller  erewhile  of  a  far  solar  sphere  ! 

Now  come  unto  us  from  that  realm  of  creation, 
Both  seraphs  and  angels  we  welcome  thee  here. 

"Ere  long,  by  the  solemn  decree  of  Jehovah, 
The  planets  and  sun  of  thy  system  sublime 

16*  (  185) 


!86   THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES. 

Shall  wing  their  flight  back  to  the  regions  of  chaos, 
And  chant  their  last  song  to  the  marches  of  time. 

"  The  sounds  even  now  of  those  trembling  vibrations 
Announce  the  approach  of  some  heavenly  pow'r, 

To  tell  us,  perchance,  to  the  spheres  of  that  system 
Already  hath  come  the  last  sorrowful  hour. 

"  My  sister,  behold  !"     When  the  angel  had  spoken, 
I  saw  that  a  shadow  had  clouded  the  light, 

And  near  us  a  being  of  heavenly  beauty, 
Yet  robed  in  a  mantle  sad-hued  as  the  night. 

She  lifted  her  eyes.     And  then,  breaking  the  silence 
That  reverence  holy  had  taught  me  to  keep, 

I  turned  to  the  being  who  welcomed  me  thither, 
And,  wondering,  asked,  "Do  the  angels  e'er  weep?" 

"  I  leave,"  answered  sadly  the  sorrowful  angel, 
"A  planet  o'er  which  I  was  guardian  long. 

Uranus  is  hurled  from  its  place  in  thy  system 
By  pow'r  of  the  Infinite  mighty  and  strong. 

"  I  saw  when  there  dawned  at  the  word  of  Jehovah 
Upon  this  fair  planet  the  first  beams  of  light, 

I  heard  when  His  mandate  as  steadfast  and  solemn 
Consigned  it  to  regions  of  chaos  and  night. 


THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES.   jg; 

"  These  tears,  O  my  sister  !  are  not  those  of  longing 
To  call  back  the  lost  from  those  voids  dark  and  deep ; 

These  are  but  the  tears  of  a  holy  remembrance, 
Remembrance  Jehovah  Himself  bids  us  keep." 

The  shadows  around  us  grew  darker  and  deeper  : 
Two  beings  approached  us  from  o'er  the  dark  way. 

While  mighty  and  strange  was  the  pow'r  of  their  presence, 
I  heard  them  in  accents  of  deep  sorrow  say, — 

"Guardian  angel  of  this  Pleiad, 
Of  the  heav'nly  Alcyone, 
Center  of  the  starry  system, 
'Tis  an  hour  of  woe  and  wonder 

In  the  universe  of  God  ; 
For  in  yonder  solar  system 
There  hath  risen  strange  commotion  ; 
Two,  of  all,  the  brightest  planets, 
Mighty  ring-encircled  Saturn, 
Jupiter  with  moons  attended, 
Must  forever  quench  their  splendor 

In  the  dark,  chaotic  deep." 

The  ether  around  us  scarce  ceased  its  vibrations, 

That  thrilled  with  the  sounds  of  celestials'  deep  woe, 

When  came  to  us,  veiled  in  a  mantle  of  darkness, 
Another  one,  saying,  in  tones  sad  and  low, — 


1 88   THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES. 

"  From  the  earth  I  bring  ye  tidings, 
Come  to  tell  the  moon  is  waning, 
Come  to  tell  the  stars  are  setting, 
Come  to  tell  the  sun  no  longer 

O'er  the  earth  shall  shed  its  light. 
Earth  is  all  in  desolation, 
Wrapped  in  shadows  and  in  darkness, 
With  its  sister  worlds  expiring. 
Back  to  chaos  soon  they'll  hasten, 
While  the  thunders  chant  their  death-song, 
And  the  lightnings  round  them  flashing 

Light  them  on  their  lonely  way." 

I  listened  in  silence,  until  in  her  sorrow 

I  heard  the  last  angel  her  story  relate. 
It  oped  in  my  soul  all  the  fountains  of  sadness. 

I  murmured,  "Alas,  O  thou  Earth  !  thy  sad  fate  !" 

The  guardian  angel  who  welcomed  me  thither 
Said  gently,  "  My  sister,  oh,  why  art  thou  sad? 

While  seraphs  and  angels  are  here  to  befriend  thee, 
And  this  is  thy  home,  let  thy  spirit  be  glad." 

"  I  know  that  thou  lovest  me,  call'st  me  thy  sister," 
I  said,  "but  that  world  was  my  dwelling  before; 

And  there  too  dwelt  those  who  have  known  me  and 

loved  me : 
Oh,  then  let  my  sorrow  wake  wonder  no  more." 


THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES.   ^9 

When  thus  I  had  murmured  my  sorrow,  the  angel 
To  me  said  with  tenderness  holy  and  sweet, 

"  If  friends  who  were  thine  are  the  friends  of  the 

Saviour, 
Weep  not  then,  my  sister,  again  ye  shall  meet.' 

Then  quickly  the  shadows  around  us  were  lifted, 
And  circled  with  light  came  a  glorious  one, 

And  said  she,  in  tones  full  of  peace  and  of  triumph, 
"  The  guardian  angel  was  I  of  the  Sun ; 

But  now  at  its  fate  my  soul  doth  not  sorrow, 
The  will  of  Jehovah  forever  be  done. 

"  My  sad  sisters,  come  with  me.     We  who  have  wit 
nessed 

The  birth  of  these  spheres  in  the  dawning  of  time 
Must  guide  them  while,  winging  their  flight  back  to 

chaos, 
They  chant  their  last  anthem,  so  sad,  yet  sublime." 

The  angels  departed.     And  soon  through  the  silence, 
And  clearer  and  sweeter  than  ever  before, 

Arose  the  last  song  of  the  Spheres,  and  we  listened 
Till  e'en  its  last  cadence  resounded  no  more. 

Then  sounds  did  we  hear  as  the  rushing  of  pinions ; 
Before  us  was  gathered  a  numberless  throng, 


190 


THE  LAST  SONG  OF  THE  SPHERES. 


All  clad  in  the  white  robes  of  heavenly  beauty, 

With  golden  harps  tuned  to  Redemption's  sweet  song. 

The  guardian  angel,  her  holy  eyes  raising, 
That  beamed  with  a  new  and  a  glorious  ray, 

Said,  "O  Thou  Great  Father  of  Spirits!    we  praise 

Thee 
That  souls  perish  not,  though  the  worlds  pass  away  f 


NIGHT. 

O  ANCIENT  Night !  ere  suns  and  stars  had  birth, 

Or  God  from  chaos  wrought  this  wondrous  earth, 

Triumphant  thou  didst  reign,  while  all  around 

Thy  sister  Silence  breathed  a  spell  profound. 

And  then  at  last  this  orb  assumed  a  place 

With  other  planets  in  the  realms  of  space; 

And  cosmic  light  at  length  flashed  dimly  o'er 

A  world  to  naught  but  darkness  known  before ; 

Prophetic  of  a  future  day  of  light, 

To  beam  with  radiance  more  pure  and  bright. 

At  last  through  clouds  of  mist  the  sun-rays  broke, 

And  earth  into  the  sunlight  splendor  woke. 

And  thou  wast  Night,  though  Darkness  was  thy  name 

Ere  at  God's  word  Day  into  being  came; 

And  when  "God  saw  the  light  that  it  was  good," 

And  gazed  afar  where  Night  majestic  stood, 

"Let  us,"  He  said,  "each  one  of  these  divide, 

And  give  to  both  an  empire  vast  and  wide." 

When  this  was  done,  well  pleasing  in  His  sight, 

The  light  He  called  the  Day,  the  darkness,  Night. 

He  placed  a  starry  crown  on  Night's  dark  brow, 

And  as  she  wore  it  then  she  wears  it  now, 

('9') 


1 92  NIGHT. 

Save  here  and  there  a  bright  celestial  gem 

Is  lost  from  out  the  gorgeous  diadem; 

While  beaming  forth  with  majesty  and  grace 

Another  fills  the  glitt'ring  lost  one's  place. 

O  Night !  what  mighty  changes  thou  hast  seen  ! 

What  mighty  changes  in  our  world  had  been 

Ere  yet  man  came  from  God's  creating  hand, 

The  one  for  whom  creation's-  scheme  was  planned ! 

And  now  for  long  years  o'er  this  peopled  earth 

Hast    thou   looked    down   on   scenes   of   woe   and 

mirth ; 

On  scenes  of  joy  and  peace,  and  those  of  strife, 
On  scenes  of  death,  and  scenes  of  happy  life; 
And  watched  while  grief,  unsleeping,  wept  away 
The  long  night-hours  until  the  break  of  day; 
And  seen  despair  lift  up  its  tearless  eye 
In  silent  agony,  and  pray  to  die. 
How  long,  O  Night !  until  such  woe  be  past  ? 
When  hearts  no  more  shall  bow  'neath  sorrow's  blast, 
When  wrong  and  error  shall  be  swept  away, 
And  truth  and  right  hold  universal  sway. 

The  most  some  talent  have,  though  genius,  few ; 
And  noble  zeal  and  talent  might  renew 
Our  earth,  until  'twould  like  a  heaven  seem, 
Where  life  would  pass  like  some  entrancing  dream. 
Though  talent  gazes  with  bewildered  eye, 
When  genius  in  its  course  sweeps  earth  and  sky 


NIGHT.  I93 

And  darts  like  lightning  through  the  depths  of  space, 

Impatient,  eager  some  new  path  to  trace 

Where  seraphim  or  angels  may  have  trod, 

When  drawing  nearer  to  the  throne  of  God, 

Joy's  sunlight  is  not  always  genius'  dow'r; 

Too  oft  it  feels  the  storm  and  whirlwind's  pow'r, 

Yet  storm  and  whirlwind  may  alike  defy, 

With  upward  glance  still  fixed  on  Deity. 

Immortal  minstrel!  Milton,  sang  of  light 

When  its  sweet   beams  no  more  might   cheer  his 

sight ; 

Though  day  its  glories  has,  O  Night !  we  claim 
Thou  hast  thy  glories  too,  though  not  the  same. 
And  when  o'er  earth  thy  gentle  shadows  fall; 
When  quietness  and  peace  reign  over  all ; 
When  stars  gaze  on  us  from  their  home  above 
With  glances  full  of  sympathy  and  love; 
The  waves  of  life's  great  sea  more  calmly  roll, 
And  tides  of  glorious  thoughts  sweep  o'er  the  soul. 
Then,  too,  in  those  calm  hours  of  deep  repose, 
Long  after  day  has  wandered  to  its  close, 
When  sleep  waves  o'er  us  its  soft  magic  wand, 
How  sweet  to  wander  in  that  mystic  land, — 
The  dream-land,  often  with  rare  beauties  fraught 
Like  that  bewitching  fairy-land  of  thought ! 

O  Night !  we  love  thee  most  that  thou  dost  show, 
To  mortals  dwelling  in  this  sphere  below, 
'7 


I94 


NIGHT. 


Those  glorious  orbs  that  on  thy  dark  brow  gleam, 
That  in  the  heav'ns  with  light  celestial  beam; 
And  when  above  we  lift  our  wond'ring  eyes 
And  view  the  glories  of  the  midnight  skies, 
How  longs  the  spirit  then  for  wings  to  soar 
Through  starry  lands  by  angels  trod  before, 
That  it  may  view  with  clear-discerning  eyes 
E'en  some  of  God's  unfathomed  mysteries! 
And  can  these  aspirations  of  the  soul  be  wrong, 
These  yearnings  of  the  spirit,  deep  and  strong  ? 
No  !   Though  ^od's  thoughts  are  not  as  thoughts  of 

man, 

His  secret  ways  no  mortal  e'er  can  scan, 
Yet  as  we  journey  to  perfection's  goal 
We'll  cherish  still  these  longings  of  the  soul, 
Still  keep  our  eyes  fixed  on  the  heights  above, 
And  still  with  earnest  strivings  onward  move. 
We  know  not  but  when  this  brief  life  is  past 
Our  wishes  may  be  realized  at  last ; 
But  should  this  be,  the  soul,  though  richly  blest, 
Would  not  deem  this  enough,  nor  idly  rest, 
But  higher  longings  still  would  then  be  born, 
With  ever-wid'ning  range  as  beams  of  morn. 
Each  star,  O  Night,  that  glitters  in  thy  crown, 
That  gazes  on  this  earth  majestic  down, 
Seems  like  a  pleader  to  this  earth-sphere  giv'n 
To  woo  man's  thoughts  from  earthly  things  to  heav'n. 


NIGHT.  I9S 

And  to  that  soul  that  ever  seeks  to  view 
In  all  things  good  the  beautiful  and  true, 
Its  silent  voice  is  full  of  love  and  peace, 
With  promises  of  bliss  that  ne'er  shall  cease. 
But  to  that  soul  absorbed  in  worldly  cares, 
That  weave  a  network  round  of  Satan's  snares, 
Its  holy,  earnest  glance  would  seem  to  say, 
"  Oh,  waste  not  thus  the  hours  of  life's  brief  day. 
Now  bid  thy  spirit  from  these  earth-mists  soar ; 
Lift  up  thine  eyes,  behold  us,  and  adore. 
Adore  the  God  who  formed  us  by  His  might, 
Whose  hand  alone  can  quench  our  beams  of  light ; 
And  realize  within  thy  soul  how  vain 
Is  all  the  glory  worldly  pomp  can  gain." 
Ambitious  man  may  rear  through  all  the  land 
Proud  monuments  of  pow'r  he  hopes  will  stand 
Through  long,  long  ages ;  but  they  pass  away. 
There's  naught  man's  work  that  can  resist  decay. 
E'en  Egypt's  pyramids  at  last  must  fall, 
When  desolation's  wing  sweeps  over  all. 
Exalted  thought  and  holy  deeds  alone 
Rear  structures  that  can  ne'er  be  overthrown. 

Night,  thou  art  beautiful,  when  winter  reigns 
And  flings  its  mantling  snow  o'er  hills  and  plains; 
When  'neath  the  starlight,  or  the  moon's  clear  beam, 
Its  icicles  and  crystals  softly  gleam ; 


• 

196  NIGHT. 

And  lovely  thou,  when  gentle  springtime  comes 
And  calls  the  blossoms  to  their  woodland  homes. 
How  glorious  art  thou,  when  the  summer's  sky 
Hath  caught  the  deep  glance  of  her  laughing  eye  ! 
How  peaceful  thou,  when  quiet  autumn  comes, 
The  time  when  birds  return  to  southern  homes ; 
When  breezes  hum  a  low  and  sad  refrain, 
As  if  it  were  a  parting  full  of  pain, 
When  proud  trees  drop  their  bright-hued    garlands 

down 

Upon  the  barren  earth  so  cold  and  brown  ! 
The  blossoms  perish  'neath  the  touch  of  frost ; 
The  glories  of  the  summer  all  are  lost. 
Majestic  is  thy  reign  where  northern  skies 
Are  lit  with  luster  of  auroral  dyes  ; 
And  fancy  whispers  that  like  fairy-land — 
Save  that  there  come  no  breezes  mild  and  bland — 
Must  be  those  arctic  realms,  when  over  all 
Their  icebergs  and  their  glaciers  moonbeams  fall. 
And  then  our  own  broad  prairies  love  thee  too, 
On  flow'rs  and  grasses  dropping  gentle  dew. 
Thy  reign  is  bright  in  far-off  southern  clime, 
In  lovely  lands  of  music  and  of  rhyme. 
And  if  so  fair  lit  by  the  sunbeam  dyes, 
How  glorious,  too,  must  be  the  midnight  skies 
Of  Italy,  that  land  of  deathless  fame, 
Where  long  ago  Art's  high-souled  children  came, 


NIGHT. 


197 


The  canvas  touched,  or  on  the  marble  wrought, 
And  left  the  impress  there  of  lofty  thought. 

Night,  there  are  times  when  o'er  thy  brow  serene 
Thick  clouds  of  blackness  and  of  rage  are  seen  ; 
Times  when  the  storm-winds  rush  in  madness  by, 
And  lightnings  flash  across  the  darkened  sky. 
Yet,  Night,  thy  clouds  and  tempests  are  sublime, 
Foreshadowing  that  great,  that  fearful  time, 
So  fearful  unto  each  whose  wayward  heart 
Refused  in  life  to  choose  the  better  part ; 
When  angels  traversing  the  voids  of  space 
Shall  from  the  clouds  that  veil  Jehovah's  face 
Peal  after  peal  from  their  loud  trumpets  blow, 
And  shake  the  heav'ns  above  and  earth  below. 

O  glorious  Night !  with  all  thine  orbs  of  light, 
There  is  a  sinless  land  where  comes  no  night ; 
And  when  in  those  fair  realms  of  Paradise 
We  meet  the  pure  sweet  gaze  of  angel  eyes 
And  feel  the  gentle  clasp  of  spirit  hands, 
We'll  roam  enraptured  through  those  angel  lands, 
Where  friends  shall  meet  and  know  the  perfect  love 
That  thrills  the  souls  of  those  who  meet  above; 
And  then  our  souls  shall  view  more  glorious  things 
Than  Night  to  mortal  vision  ever  brings ; 
Then  thought  shall  soar  from  earthly  fetters  free, 
And  time  be  lost  in  vast  eternity. 
17* 


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